The Ballad of Stoot and Argyle
by Satine89
Summary: AU. Terrance and Phillip, teenagers at South Park High, find their lives at a turning point when Terrance, spurred by a prank at a party, confides to Phillip that he's gay. So begins a tumultuous senior year for the pair of them.
1. hanging out at the village green

_hanging out at the village green_

South Park High School was home to a lot of strange people and weird things, just like South Park Middle School was a hotbed of hormones and testosterone, just like South Park Elementary was a soup of maladjusted prepubescent brats. No one was getting a good education, book-wise, at any institution, no matter what their grades said. The South Park, Colorado schools, however, were a pretty good place to learn about life.

Everyone had their moment in the South Park school system when they realized there was something about their life that was lacking. Some of these epiphanies had to do with love, as most epiphanies in high school were wont to deal with. Some involved future careers, which were likely to be fully out of reach, but there was nothing to stop a dream. And all of the children that passed through eventually came to the conclusion that, no matter what they did, they were ultimately fucked, bound to be crushed by the crippling weirdness of the town they called home.

After a while, they got used to it. They could look at Stanley Marsh and Wendy Testaburger and feel confident that they were the only two leaving. They might add Kyle Broflovski, but there was the issue of his mother and his rebellious adopted brother, two diametrically opposed ends tugging on him. There were a few question marks, though. Maybe Eric Cartman, depending on what ended up happening with Kyle. It was hard for anyone in South Park to imagine the two of them not yelling at each other, embodying their parody of friendship, so if Kyle managed to escape, Eric would probably follow the gangly redhead to wherever he fled. Creepy as that was. Maybe Bebe Stevens, too. Her beauty would either propel her to becoming a famous actress or South Park's hottest trophy wife.

And then there was those two weird Canadian kids. Phillip Argyle had lived in South Park since he was ten, always distinctly separated from the strangeness around him. While people had increasingly violent freak-outs over minor incidents, Phillip could usually be found watching or listening to old comedy specials, not even aware of the chaos outside. He didn't have many friends outside of Ike and Kyle Broflovski, despite growing into an absolutely gorgeous teenager with perfect blonde hair and the kind of slim, muscular physique that girls went crazy for. In contrast, Terrance Stoot moved to South Park during his sophomore year of high school, a scattered, mentally shaken teen who mentioned that he'd just suffered through his parents' divorce and didn't really want to talk about… anything. He was friendly but quiet, easily rattled, giving Leopold Stotch a run for his money early on in terms of being a human doormat.

But about two weeks into Terrance's start of the new school year at South Park High, hiding, as usual, behind his long brown hair and a dark-colored beanie and a rather large book about serial killers, his life changed. So did Phillip's. Phillip and Terrance didn't operate in the same circles, mostly because neither of them were particularly social people. Phillip spent most of his sophomore year of high school before this point desperately running away from smitten teenage girls. Terrance spent the past two weeks looking very brooding and loner-like underneath bleachers and in hallways.

But they shared the same homeroom. And on the fateful day of November 10, at 8:35 AM, The Event happened.

Phillip farted. Terrance, from his seat only a few spots up from Phillip in the classroom, awkwardly hiding behind his disheveled appearance and another morbid book of morbidity, glanced at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing.

The two of them were largely inseparable after that. They bonded over many things – their mutual irritation with school (shown by their less than brilliant grades), their love of comedy and Schadenfreude, being Canadian, their assertion that Celine Dion was easily the most beautiful woman on earth, a shared hate for Facebook, the tendency to not get involved in most of the craziness of their classmates… they had a lot in common, those two. After a month or so, they managed to buy up some time on South Park Public Access and began work on a hyperkinetic mess of pranks and juvenile comedy that they ever-so-creatively called 'The Terrance and Phillip Show', which benefitted from being in the slot after the ratings juggernaut that was 'Huntin and Killin with Jimbo and Ned'.

The boys themselves began to change noticeably. Terrance was still nice, but he was drawing out of his shell, more willing to talk to those around him, which got Phillip to stop being so pretentious around his classmates. They slowly began to gain popularity for things other than Phillip's striking blue eyes, and people at the high school were watching their show. Girls were interested in Terrance, something that really confused him. By the time the end of their junior year of high school rolled around, the two of them were inseparable, well-liked, definitely not as neurotic, and deemed worthy enough of being invited to Bebe's huge end of the year bash.

Maybe they were making it out of South Park.


	2. he pop bottles

_he pop bottles and he got the right kind of build_

"Bebe's going to get so drunk."

Terrance Stoot didn't disagree with Phillip Argyle's central thesis. He was a little too focused on driving down one of the narrow South Park streets, hazel eyes darting around, making sure he didn't hit anyone. For someone with their license, Terrance was a hell of a paranoid driver. Phillip glanced at him curiously, noting the little nod he gave, before smirking.

"…was that agreement or a nervous tic?" Phillip asked.

"Agreement."

"You can relax a little, guy. You aren't a bad driver."

"I hit Eric's cat."

"…yes, well, that was unfortunate."

"It would've been unfortunate if it was anyone else's pet. It was an abomination."

"You and your fancy words," Phillip smirked, staring out the window of the small blue sub-compact, dredged up from the mid-80s to serve as Terrance's mode of transport. The thing was held together with spit and glue, but it worked, if you ignored the fact that the ignition was separated from the steering column, the driver's side window didn't open, the cassette player ate cassettes, the running board was falling off… Terrance waved all of these problems off with a simple 'I don't have the money to fix it' when he was asked. Compared to Token's shining new Mercedes Benz, his car was devil spawn. Probably a bit more comfortable than the Benz, though, Phillip thought with a bit of a smile.

"I'm trying to pass English."

"By reading the thesaurus?"

"Maybe if you read it, you'd pass too, you ass-ramming fuck-wipe."

"…fuck-wipe, that's a new one."

"It doesn't have the ring I'd been hoping for," Terrance admitted, turning down a side-street. The lightly audible sound of teenagers giggling and loud, thudding club music must've meant this was the place. Phillip and Terrance had never been to Bebe Steven's house – she was the head cheerleader, the most popular girl in school, and the pair's steadfast refusal to seem remotely interested in women didn't endear them to South Park High's women. Phillip didn't know why Terrance wasn't interested in girls – he always assumed it was scarring from his parent's divorce. Phillip… well, there were many reasons.

But being invited to Bebe Steven's party was a big deal. It meant they were popular, something Terrance, again, didn't really care about or grasp. He just assumed stay home and 'get drunk there'. Sarcastic little weirdo.

"They're playing Skrillex," Terrance said with a marked disdain.

"What were you hoping for?"

"Anything but Skrillex," Terrance noted, pulling his Cavalier against a curb across the street from Bebe's house. Craig Tucker and his sister Ruby were emerging from the house as Terrance pulled up, the two of them arguing heatedly over something. Phillip practically shoved his door open (oh right, the doors didn't quite work, either) and stepped into the street while Terrance slammed his car door shut, locking up the car and shoving the keys in his pocket. Terrance wore his typical attire, a dark baggy sweater and tight jeans paired off with his black sneakers and matching beanie. Phillip had better dress sense, wearing a light button-down and blue jeans that didn't make his legs look like toothpicks, but that was Terrance and Phillip for you. They didn't look a thing like the other.

"Try not to quote that entire television show to anyone," Phillip said with a laugh as the two of them watched for cars briefly before crossing the street.

"Oh, but it's so tempting. Those two Newfoundlanders are so funny! And so right about this shit band." The music was throbbing at this point, perfectly audible from the sidewalk in front of Bebe's doorstep.

Phillip glanced at Terrance, a sly smirk on his face. "Try not to cause a scene, Terrance."

"…oh I won't. Stan and Wendy are here."

"…and?"

"Apparently Stan's hanging out with that tall kid again…"

"The one we accidentally threw paint on?"

"The very same."

"You won't cause a scene."

Terrance's turn to smirk. The two of them pushed the door to Bebe's house open, walking in on a throng of people mingling, singing, dancing, and drunkenly maneuvering their way around Bebe's towering house. Phillip glanced around, a bit in awe of how many people were here, before eyeing Terrance. Terrance's eyes were similarly floating around the room, looking for –

"BEBE!" he screamed suddenly. It managed to carry over the din around them, and sure enough, a blonde in the opposite corner of the room turned around, perfectly manicured hand on her hip. Bebe's wild curly locks fell over her shoulder as her concerned face turned into a bright smile.

"Terrance! Phillip! Get your ass over here! Asses. Ass."

"She's a little drunk," Phillip told Terrance unnecessarily.

"Shocking." The two of them slid through the party, sliding past people who said hello to them and an extremely drunk Wendy Testaburger, who probably didn't recognize them in her distress, eventually settling next to Bebe and her conversation partner, Rebecca Turner. The two of them were dressed similarly, in short dresses with glittery accents, but Rebecca, or Red, seemed more in control of her faculties than Bebe. Bebe immediately pulled Phillip into a tight hug, and then did the same to Terrance. Phillip would've laughed at the look on Terrance's face if Red wasn't inspecting the two of them so intently.

"Oh my Goood you guys I didn't think you'd come!" Bebe giggled, picking up her drink from a nearby table, which was pink and matched her nail polish. Phillip smiled smoothly while Terrance tried to out-stare Red.

"Well, everyone's here, so…"

"Oh I know! Except Ike. Because he's like five. And those annoying Goth kids. But like everyone else is here. I don't know wheeere but they're totally here. And everyone looks soo good!" Bebe chirped.

Red tore her eyes away from Terrance for a few seconds to glare at Bebe. "How drunk are you?"

"Not much very!" Bebe protested before turning to the boys again. "…you guys should get a drink."

"I'm driving," was Terrance's immediate response.

"I don't care if y'all stay oover," Bebe countered.

Phillip wasn't surprised that Terrance, red-faced and wildly discomfited, wandered away from him at that moment. Phillip watched him with a wry smile before turning back to Bebe.

"…what'd I say?" Bebe asked.

Red rolled her eyes. "The need to get wasted was probably too strong to withstand."

"Don't worry about it Bebe," Phillip responded, ignoring Red. "He's not offended. He'll come back."

.

Terrance grabbed an unopened beer off the kitchen counter, walking past a fairly shaken-up Stan Marsh and a patient as ever Kyle Broflovski in order to get there. Compared to the raucousness that was the sprawling living room, the kitchen was quieter. If still echoing with dubstep music.

He wasn't very comfortable with parties. Phillip had a natural charisma, one that Terrance wished he possessed when the cameras were off. He could slide his way through a conversation without upsetting people or getting upset himself. Terrance wasn't socially inept by any means, but it was hard for him to deal with drunk people. Especially drunk people hitting on him.

Terrance cracked open his beer and drained a good portion of it, staring out the window into Bebe's backyard, where Clyde Donovan was attempting to set off a firecracker, much to Token Black's hysterical dismay.

See, he had a little secret, buried deep inside his heart. He knew that Phillip didn't like the artifice of his classmates, especially the girls, who were eternally embroiled in power struggles. The only one immune to it, he said, was Wendy, because she was pretty much one of the guys, always with Stan and a constant thorn in Eric's side. Terrance agreed with him just to avoid saying the real reason: he just wasn't interested. Unless the woman was Celine Dion, he would never be -

"That fucker's never going to light that firework," a rough voice from behind Terrance said loudly. Terrance narrowed his eyes and turned around.

"I was busy having an introspective moment, Eric," Terrance informed the teen behind him. Terrance wasn't as familiar with Eric Cartman's laundry list of sins as Phillip was – Terrance wasn't even around when the now-hulking teenager was obese instead of muscular. He mildly tolerated Eric for a few reasons – not wanting to die was a pretty good one. A sense of remorse over killing his cat, there was that reasoning. Finding him extremely attractive, a fucked-up but still valid reason.

"You can think?"

The ego boost in realizing he was smarter than Eric would ever be, reason number four. Terrance rolled his eyes, glancing back out the window. Clyde had just managed to light his shoe on fire. A small smile slipped onto Terrance's face before he turned back, not entirely surprised to see the brunette still behind him. Pulling a strand of hair out of his face, Terrance asked blankly, "you still here?"

"You never answered my question, you fucking fag."

Terrance narrowed his eyes. "That's not very nice."

"Wasn't supposed to be, Stoot," Eric replied testily.

Terrance stared at him for a second before realizing that, no, Eric really wasn't going to go anywhere until he answered the completely asinine question. "…yes, I can think."

"…so what do you think? About that?" Eric gestured to the window, where Token had just dumped a beer on Clyde's foot to douse the fire. Clyde was flailing around like a madman, and Tweek Tweak had just jumped into their madness and was now yanking on his shaggy blonde hair and freaking out.

"…Daniel Tosh would be very interested in a recording," Terrance answered honestly.

"You're kind of fucked-up."

Terrance gaped at Eric. "…oh yeah, you're totally fucking normal. And I didn't say I approved of it, just that he'd probably show it if he had a copy."

Eric raised a curious eyebrow at Terrance, who simply stared back, unsure of what Eric was thinking about. For the few things that Terrance liked about Eric, there were far more things that set him ill at ease about the teenager, like the fact that he played lacrosse for the school team and could probably snap Terrance in half. Or that in moments like this, the idea of not being able to read Eric chilled Terrance to the bone.

"…where's your boyfriend?" Eric finally asked, glancing around.

"He's not my – Jesus, there's no point with you. I don't know where Phillip is." Terrance went back to watching the macabre scene unfolding, draining another third of his beer in one gulp, frustrated. Bad as he felt about killing Eric's cat, he sure as hell didn't feel bad for Eric. Just the cat. He stared out the window, looking at Clyde trying to hug Tweek into some sort of calm submission and utterly failing, before realizing that Eric was still staring at the back of his head.

"I can see your reflection in the window, fuck-wipe."

"…fuck-wipe, that's a new one."

"It works perfectly for you."

"There a reason you're still here?"

"You're blocking the beer."

That he was. Terrance frowned, moving away from the torn-apart cardboard box of Budweiser and striding out of the kitchen without so much as a second look. Worming his way back into the living room, he settled next to Phillip easily, who was talking to Wendy. Or, more accurately, Wendy was ranting to him about how much she wanted to throttle that curly-haired Goth kid's throat for trying to get Stan back into their cult, and Phillip was uncomfortably nodding and subtly stealing sips of Wendy's drink, to prevent her from getting drunker. Phillip was too nice sometimes.

Wendy glanced at Terrance and smiled wearily. Normally, Wendy was a very pretty girl, mainly because she was herself, lightly curling her raven-coloured hair only because she liked the way it looked. She'd worn a nice purple sweater, a plum-coloured skirt, and black tights with dark boots tonight, and would look beautiful if it wasn't for her running mascara and alcohol-flushed cheeks.

"You look annoyed," she noted. Even drunk and depressed, she was perceptive.

"Eric," Terrance responded simply.

"He has that effect." Wendy turned back to Phillip. "I just don't get it. I mean, Stan doesn't understand why I'm upset that he'd associate with them, even as an acquaintance. It's their lifestyle. Stan can't risk giving up sports and throwing all that away by smoking and drinking coffee and stabbing himself –"

"Pretty sure they don't stab themselves," Terrance offered. Phillip glanced at him, as if to say that he'd already tried to bring that point up. Terrance shrunk a bit before shrugging. "…well, does he know how you feel about it?"

"Sort of," Wendy admitted, wiping her running nose with her sleeve. "He was just all, 'I can't just ignore him'. He's too nice."

"Well, if they weren't trying to get him back into their clique –" Phillip offered before a voice outside of the conversation cut him off.

"SPIN THE BOTTLE IS A GREAT IDEA RED!" Bebe's loud voice shrieked in delight, carrying over the collected madness of the party. An immediate hushed silence fell over the party's inhabitants, most of whom were fairly inebriated at this point. The only people who looked remotely sober were Kyle, still in the corner with Stan; Phillip and Terrance themselves; Eric Cartman, who poked his head out of the kitchen to see what was going on; and Leopold Stotch, aka Butters, aka the guy sitting on the couch and telling stories about his new kitten to anyone who would listen.

"No it doesn't!" Red yelled back, but the damage was done. Ruby Tucker procured a bottle. Wendy slid onto the ground as everyone else began to move in a circle, pulling nervously at the hem of her skirt. Sensing some sort of cosmic disturbance, or depression, or something that needed a little dose of livening up, Kenny McCormick took the seat next to her, telling her that if someone ended up being forced to kiss her, he would punch them in the face. Terrance noticed Wendy smile ever so slightly at Kenny's kindness, which was nice. Kenny was a bit of a loser, a grungy guy who spent more time getting high than actually doing anything of worth, but he really did try to make sure his friends were all right.

Terrance sat down next to Phillip, and wasn't surprised to see Kyle take the seat next to him. "Hey buddy."

Kyle nodded in response, wrapping a finger around a tight red ringlet of hair. "Hey Terrance. Phillip."

Phillip smiled at him before his facial expression slid away. "How's Stan?"

"In the bathroom. I don't think he can handle the fact that someone certain is playing this game."

The three of them uneasily turned away from each other as Bebe took a seat in the only available spot in the oval. Almost everyone at the party was in the circle, save Leopold, who was watching from the couch and telling the boy he sat next to, the easygoing blonde Bradley Biggle, that he wasn't a big fan of Spin the Bottle, especially when so many people were drunk. Bradley seemed to agree. Stan also avoided the circle, as did the three idiots flailing around outside. Only Terrance noticed their absence.

Bebe put the bottle in the center of the large circle, grinning. "I know it's like soooooo junior high, but Spin the Bottle, you know, I think it'll be super fun and all that!"

Everyone around Terrance, Phillip, and Kyle were too drunk to disagree. Bebe continued. "So you know, regular rules and all that shiiiit. Spin the bottle, truth or dare, blah blaaaah blah." Without much in the way of other direction, Bebe spun the bottle. It landed on Craig. Craig was dared to drink three shots of whiskey in a row. And so on and so forth. Terrance was not a huge fan of the game, especially with so many people so inebriated. Though it was funny as hell to see Kenny rip his shirt off and throw it in Red's face, simply for her suggesting that she might take a Truth over a Dare.

Terrance and Phillip amused themselves by making dumb faces at each other and giggling for a great portion of the game. It was during one of these stupid little gags that the empty vodka bottle landed on Terrance.

The room immediately erupted into snickers and laughs and gasps and other annoying sounds. Terrance frowned; he hadn't even seen who –

"Truth or dare, fuck-wipe?"

Of course. Terrance glanced up at Eric, arms crossed, smiling like he'd just hit some sort of proverbial jackpot. Phillip turned his icy blue eyes to Terrance, slightly concerned, but Terrance wasn't going to let Eric ask him more dumb questions. The time for questioning was over.

"Dare," Terrance responded coolly. The catcalling immediately dispelled itself into silence, and Terrance realized, upon noticing the way Eric was practically leering at him, that maybe he should've stuck with dumb questions. Phillip put a hand on his shoulder, trying to show moral support but only making Terrance more aware of how idiotic his decision was. Maybe if he was plastered, this would be easier.

"…dude, you're going to end up dead," Kenny helpfully told Terrance.

"Shut up," Wendy snapped at him before collapsing into her shirtsleeve. "Oh my God I'm such a fucking mess…"

Eric was thinking. Terrance did everything but look at him, knowing that whatever Eric made him do would probably ensure he was never invited to another party again in his life.

"If I videotape this, we could put it on the show," Phillip whispered in his ear, which made Terrance crack a little bit of a smile and look at him with bright eyes. Well, that sounded like an avenue that would make his eventual humiliation worth it.

"Assuming it passes FCC laws and won't –" Terrance began to whisper back.

"Kiss me."

Terrance narrowed his eyes at Phillip before realizing that Phillip hadn't said that. Not that Terrance would, anyways… that was weird, they were best friends. So, it was… Terrance's eyes snapped back to Eric, who was still practically leering at him.

"…huh?" Terrance asked, brilliantly.

"I was trying to think of something that would really piss you off, and tearing you away from your boyfriend seemed like the best idea," Eric explained.

Terrance pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are not dating."

"Fine. Then I relied on the fact that you loathe me and it would be humiliating for you."

"Terrance, you should really just do what he says, before he gets a worse idea," Kyle said to him, cryptically. The tittering and madness of their classmates went completely ignored by Terrance as he shrugged irritably, stood up, wandered up to Eric, threw himself onto the ground in front of the guy, and, taking a pause to fervently hope that Eric did not attempt to bite his lips or his tongue or spit in his mouth or something awful, pressed his lips to the other teen's.

The silence, all two seconds of it, was deafening. Terrance pulled away as quickly as he could manage, not even looking at Eric's triumphant, humiliation-bent expression as he stood up and moved back to his seat in the circle. Or, you know, what he assumed to be Eric's triumphant, humiliation-bent expression. Terrance didn't even bother to look at him the rest of the night.

Why give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd been upset by this whole thing, even if it wasn't for the reasons he assumed?

.

AN: Okay so I posted two chapters of this because I thought the prologue wasn't going to really be enough for the story to make sense. And I know my summary sucks, so thanks for sticking through this! It's going to definitely get weirder and more sprawling, but hopefully that won't deter you. Reviews and concrit are always appreciated!


	3. i don't wanna think anymore

_I don't want to think anymore._

Phillip undid the top button on his shirt as he got into Terrance's car. That party had been a bit of a disaster for Terrance. Phillip's dare, to pull off his pants, was really not a big deal. Almost everyone in the junior class of South Park High had seen him naked at least once on the public-access show. Terrance, though, hadn't stopped fuming since Cartman pulled one over on him. It was pretty sinister, for being so innocuous.

"…sorry about that whole mess," Phillip said, throwing his pants into the back seat. "He's a douche."

Terrance jumped into the front seat of the car, going through his usual ignition ritual with a severe scowl on his face. "You _think_?"

Phillip sighed, undoing another button on his shirt after putting on his seat belt. "…well, you know him."

"He probably found out I killed his cat."

"No, I think he would've asked to chop your hand off for that one."

"No, I think publicly outing me was good enough."

Phillip stared out the window, barely registering this. "Yeah." But as the words began to sink in, Phillip felt his eyes widen, and he immediately became aware of the choking tension in the car. Terrance was staring straight ahead, driving as if his entire existence depended on it, an expression of unadulterated pain etched onto his face.

"…what?" Phillip asked in a startled tone.

Terrance glared straight ahead, stopping just in time at a red light. "Rectum-shitting uncle fucker must have figured it out or something."

"…Eric Cartman being an asshole is nothing new. I don't think anyone will think you're –"

"But what if they do?"

Phillip leaned his elbow against the door, playing with his hair to keep his hands busy. He stared at Terrance for a while, watching him drive angrily to, hopefully, one of their houses, and not into the interior of a ditch. That would make the situation even worse. Suddenly, Terrance made a choking noise as he turned onto the side street, towards Phillip's house.

"What?" Phillip immediately asked.

"You hate me," Terrance responded. Phillip would say it was the alcohol talking, but one beer five hours prior wasn't going to make anyone talk. Phillip immediately patted Terrance's shoulder and mussed up his hair and beanie a little bit. Terrance recoiled slightly, but not enough to be worrisome.

"Why would you say that?" Phillip asked with a bright smile.

Terrance didn't notice it, pulling up in front of Phillip's house, a fairly average-sized one-story, painted white, with a nice car in the drive. He sighed. "Because I'm… you know."

"Gay?" Phillip scoffed. "Why would that make me hate you?"

Terrance hesitated slightly, leaning back in the driver's seat, turning off the car. "It's happened before."

Oh. Phillip found his light smile replaced with a very serious scowl. His first thought was how dare anyone judge him for – and then he remembered that when he met Terrance, the kid kept to himself to an insane degree and almost seemed afraid of personal contact. That suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense; if someone had treated him so poorly in Canada… he unbuckled his seatbelt and hugged Terrance tightly. Terrance initially squirmed, but finally, awkwardly, wrapped his arms around Phillip in return.

"You're my best friend, buddy. Okay? Nothing would change that," Phillip told him.

"…not even me liking men?" Terrance responded quietly.

"No. Though it does explain your reluctance to stay with Bebe…"

"Jesus, don't even…" Terrance began to laugh, but in that laughter began to cry a little bit. Phillip undid his best friend's seatbelt and held him even closer, unsurprised that Terrance latched onto him, reciprocating more effusively than before. Phillip wasn't sure what the right question, out of the thousands going through his head, was the right one to ask. Thankfully, Terrance actually said something.

"…How'd he figure it out?" Terrance asked.

"Let's not think about it," Phillip responded, letting go. "You want to stay the night? I'm sure my mother won't mind."

Terrance nodded lightly, smiling gratefully. "…thank you."

"Hey, anything for my best friend."

.

"Dude, you broke him."

Bebe's living room had become a war zone, bodies strewn across floors, on couches, sober people hurriedly running out of the house. Most of the sober people had left – the only one left was Eric Cartman, dealing with Kenny, who was still pounding beer and not sounding or looking worse for the wear. Eric sat on the couch next to a splayed-out Stan, who kept pulling at his waist and calling him 'Wendy'. The teen was ignoring as best he could, focused more on Kenny sitting down next to him, most of his clothes shed off somewhere. Eric stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

"What?" Eric asked in his dark drawl.

Kenny took another draught of what had to be his thirtieth Coors. "Terrance. You seriously _broke_ him."

"…are you judging me, or…?"

"Nah. He's a bit of a weird one. The girls love him, though. They ain't gonna be pleased with you when they wake up." Kenny shook his head, blonde hair tousling. "What'd he do?"

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. He just… pisses me off."

"…I don't think Terrance is capable of pissing anyone off –"

"He's a fucking fag, Kenny."

"…no he's not."

"He's a faggoty little queer and acts like a fucking hypocrite about it. Not dating Phillip, my ass."

Kenny began to look worried, putting his beer down and staring at Eric seriously. "…Cartman, what the fuck are you trying to say?"

Eric's glare, cold and unfeeling, softened a bit under Kenny's visage. When they were kids and used to play superheroes, Eric would never admit that seeing Kenny underneath the shade of that Mysterion mantle seriously freaked him out. It was a similar situation now – the two of them, still best friends despite their numerous differences, tied together because of a few shared secrets, with Kenny staring Eric down in an effort to get him to cool himself.

At least, until a moment passed and Kenny's face paled. "Oh no. Not him."

"What the fucking hell does that mean, Kiineh?"

"He's probably not even –"

"He has a look," Eric said ominously.

"A look? Fuck, Cartman, do _you_ have a look?"

"Not like that, you idiot –"

"Like what, then?"

Kenny had gone from concerned to exasperated in a matter of seconds, his beer can crumpling in his fist. Eric narrowed his eyes at Kenny before staring back at the wall.

"He was mortified."

"Shock," Kenny snapped.

"But if I kissed you, what would you be?"

"Annoyed."

"…not mortified. He's hiding it."

"…not everyone has the benefit of being as despised as you," Kenny reminded Eric harshly.

"He's –"

"Probably trying to erase the memory from his mind."

Eric stared at the wall a few more seconds before leaning back into Stan's legs, prompting another round of him, in his completely zoned, inebriated manner, to grab at Eric's belt loops and ask Wendy why she was being so difficult. Eric shook it off.

"Dude, not him," Kenny said once more.

"Why?"

"He's fucking off. There's something really off about the both of them, and it's not the fact that Terrance might be gay. He's _weird_."

Kenny would know about problems. Eric raised an eyebrow drolly. "Yes, because your constant deaths are completely normal."

Kenny winced before glaring at Eric. "You're like the fucking weirdness magnet, is all I'm saying. Better hope he turns out to be half as insane as you if you want to live."

"What is he, a murderer? Jesus Christ, Kiineh, shut up and drink more beer."

"I should be dead in a few minutes."

"Finally."

.

A/N: Well, it took three chapters, but we finally have the basics of the plot outlined! (This one will be a doorstopper, I apologize.) It's a little Valentine's Day angst-filled gift for my readers – thank you! Reviews, concrit, and feedback, as always, are completely welcome and appreciated! Hope you're enjoying the story!


	4. you made a fool out of me

_you made a fool out of me_

Monday was not nearly as bad as Terrance thought it would be. Most of the people who had been at Bebe's party were so ragingly drunk that they'd blacked out the evening, and the people who did remember it seemed to recall Bebe dry-humping Craig a lot more vividly than they remembered Eric being an asshole. After a while, Phillip reminded him before homeroom, all the events seemed to blend together.

It didn't stop Terrance from being uncomfortable in the only class he shared with Eric, biology. Terrance was shit at biology, and it didn't help that it was being taught by Mr. Garrison, who was legitimately insane and referred to Terrance on more than one occasion as a whore, for no conceivable reason. Sharing his lab desk with Wendy, the two of them were supposed to be observing their own cheek scrapings underneath high-powered microscopes. Neither of them were really focused on what they were doing.

"I feel bad for unloading all of my drama on you two at the party," Wendy told Terrance. "I mean, that's not what you're my friends for, and that was uncalled for."

"Not a problem," Terrance said distractedly, trying very hard to put a cover slip onto a microscope slide without wrecking it for a third time. Wendy had the patience of a saint with Terrance. He should apologize to her more often than she to him.

"But honestly, it was so stupid to get worked up about it! He lives down the street from Adam –"

"Adam?"

"The tall goth kid."

Terrance didn't realize he had a name. "Oh. He does?"

"Yeah. I was overly worried. I didn't think… you know, it's just a bad time for me, I've been all over the place… and I took it out on him to deal with my own insecurities about the future and where everything is heading…"

"You think about the future?" Terrance asked, almost startled. Managing to put the cover slip onto the slide, he handed it to Wendy, who began to prep the microscope.

"Terrance. There's a year of high school left. This is our last week of junior year." Wendy glared at him severely, her dark hair once again glossy and perfectly coifed as it fell over her shoulder. Terrance was already having major anxiety issues sitting in the same class as the guy who manipulated him into kissing him, and was probably waiting for the right time to reveal that he had pictures, and Wendy had to bring up the future. Truth was, Terrance was only good at being funny with Phillip. And remembering synonyms and antonyms. The future was a weird nebulous thing, and the only thing Terrance was really sure of was that Phillip and him would probably still be making their show.

"…what's got you worried about the future, though?"

The less-than-clever deflection seemed to work. Wendy launched into a rather lengthy explanation of how she wasn't sure if she should embrace her liberal leanings and apply to colleges that would cater to that, or if she should look for the best program with politics being damned in the process, her words keeping Terrance from letting his mind wander. But after a few minutes of politely nodding and watching her fiddle with microscope dials, his eyes trailed upward to the other side of the classroom, where Butters and Eric were peering into the microscope in turn.

Terrance knew Eric was an ass. It was pretty obvious before the party, and was plainly obvious in its aftermath. But Terrance really couldn't stop himself from staring sometimes, because he was miles beyond what anyone else in this school could ever hope to achieve, besides Phillip. But there was a marked difference there. Phillip looked very much like a teen idol. Eric looked like a fucking man.

And then Terrance realized Eric was staring back at him.

Terrance quickly moved his eyes back to Wendy, who was still talking about the relative benefits of doing activism in addition to law, compared to doing law with a side of activism. Wendy was easy to follow. She shoved the microscope over to Terrance with a smile, telling him that his cheek cells looked cute. Terrance had to admit, they were kind of cute, in a strange way. Little flake-like objects with big red dots in the center, from the dye put onto the glob of cheek scrapings. Only Wendy would verbalize what Terrance couldn't say.

"Those are animal cells, then," Terrance said.

"Yeah," Wendy responded. "Dead ones, but yes. You're retaining something from this class, that's impressive."

Something other than conflicted emotions over an asshole? "…yeah."

.

"Children my age are so immature," Ike Broflovski said as he took a seat on the bleachers next to Phillip that lunch period.

Phillip knew that some people wondered why he associated with a thirteen-year-old boy genius at all. For starters, Phillip could get a computer hard-wired into his brain and still be dumber than Ike. There was an obvious age disparity. Ike was far more athletic and free-wheeling than the reserved, indoorsy Phillip. But they had a shared kinship, and the two of them tended to have the same problems.

"Tell me about it," Phillip said dryly. "What's got you all tied up?"

"Filmore. That guy I'm on the hockey team with? He and Flora had another fight over the amount of time he spends at hockey. Can't they see that neither of them can do anything about that? It's the faculty's decision." Ike threw up his hands, staring at the football field, watching Stan run some drills with his teammates. Phillip watched the play go off without a hitch – ten-yard gain, first down – before rolling his eyes at Ike.

"Love makes us all very dumb sometimes, Ike. I'm sure you'll avoid it, but us mere mortals…"

Ike stuck his tongue out at Phillip. Sometimes it was blatantly obvious that Ike was very young for his grade – a soon-to-be sophomore while only thirteen was nothing to shake a stick at. "I just find it annoying, the things people get concerned about."

"Guess I'm never telling you what makes me upset ever again."

"Well, I can guess what's on your mind right now," Ike said cryptically.

"…oh you can?" Phillip asked, quirking an eyebrow. "What's on my mind, genius guy?"

"Terrance and Eric," Ike responded nonchalantly. Ignoring Phillip's stunned reaction, he continued. "Kyle told me about it. Said it could've been a lot worse."

"…I'm thinking less about Eric than I am about Terrance," Phillip admitted. "But since the problems of man do not concern you –"

"Jesus, sorry, I meant the problems of dumbshits like Flora and Filmore! What about Terrance?" Ike asked, a frustrated blush rising on his cheek as he took a sip of his juice box.

Phillip sighed. "You can't tell anyone, okay?" Phillip knew that was imperative, but he trusted Ike. The two of them had been through a lot since Phillip found himself dumped in a quiet mountain town unused to seeing Canadians or readers. It was just that this was Terrance's secret, not Phillip's.

"Promise. Unless he murdered someone. Then I'll feel obligated to inform the authorities."

"Thanks Ike. No, it's… Terrance is afraid that Eric was trying to out him."

Ike stared confusedly at Phillip for a few seconds before speaking. "…What."

"I didn't know he was gay, either."

"No, I mean… why the hell would he think that Eric Cartman forcibly kissing him would be some sort of clue to the school that he's gay? Why does he even care in the first place? That weird foreign couple is gay," Ike reminded Phillip.

"You're calling them the weird foreign couple. Probably not what Terrance wants to be labeled…"

"…ah, you're right. Enjoy it while it lasts," Ike joked briefly before returning to the more serious discussion at hand. "But… why does he care?"

"He was terrified that I was going to hate him," Phillip admitted, staring out at the football field again, focused on nothing in particular. "I worry about him."

"Considering that he'd been tongue-molested by Cartman, he was probably terrified of the world," Ike offered, draining his juice box and setting it aside gingerly.

"I thought it would be a bad idea to bring it up."

"Agreed. …how many people were wasted at that party?"

"Everyone but me, Terrance, your brother, Eric, and Butters."

"Good old Butters."

.

A/N: I'm hoping that everyone that's reading this story is enjoying it – for some reason, my hits for this story skyrocketed on Sunday, so thanks to whoever made that possible! Much love. As always, reviews and concrit are welcome. I would like to share a little bit of the writing process with you right now, though. I name all of my chapters after lines from songs, but each song that I reference either foreshadows the events of the chapter, or future events in the story. For example, the first chapter title, 'hanging out at the village green', is from Billy Joel's 'Scenes from an Italian Restaurant', and refers to a faraway memory of high school life. I'll leave the others for my readers to figure out. (smiles)


	5. if there's a prize for rotten judgment

_if there's a prize for rotten judgment_

Terrance lived across the street from Eric. He'd been saved the indignity of walking home near him for about a year now, being a seventeen-year-old with a car. Not many kids at South Park High possessed a car – him, Token, and Stan were the only males, and Red was the only female – and Terrance had never been gladder that he didn't have to walk home than today. He was just frazzled. His mother knew something was a bit off, but Terrance definitely wasn't ready to have that conversation with her.

He pulled in front of his house, throwing his car door open and slamming it shut, the routine he went through with his piece of shit every day. Today was slightly different in that, in the time it took for Terrance to get out of his car and close the door, someone was waiting for him right outside his car. It didn't take a genius, or someone who could detect subtle ironies, to figure out who.

"I think we need to talk," Eric Cartman told Terrance, leaning against the hood of his car, making it creak slightly with the added weight. Terrance flipped a piece of long brown hair out of his face, narrowing his eyes at the other teen.

"No one remembers it anyways, no one will think you're gay, you can move on with your life," Terrance said robotically, trying to move around Eric. Eric stopped him with a simple, icy glare. He had that kind of power.

"That's not something I really care about. " Eric paused, frowning. "What I'm more interested in is why you don't come clean."

"Guy, you could blackmail so many other people with what happened at that party. I mean, Jenny Simons hooked up with –"

"I don't care."

Damn it. That was Terrance's escape clause. To be fair, he had no idea what Eric was even trying to get him to do. That in itself was a bit terrifying. "…what do you want?"

"For you to tell me a few things."

"Like what?"

"Why won't you just admit that you and Phillip are fucking each other?"

Terrance narrowed his eyes at Eric, crossing his thin arms over his chest irritably. "Because we're _not_. We're best friends. If that's all you want to –"

"Then who are you queer for?"

Terrance took a second to puzzle together what on earth Eric was trying to ask, and, upon receiving no rational explanation for it, let out a confused "huh?"

Eric had an explanation for himself, standing up and moving slightly away from the car. "If you're gay, you gotta have some guy you like, then. Who is it?"

Terrance tried to move around him again. "Fuck off."

"So you are gay," Eric stated as Terrance walked onto the sidewalk. Terrance paused, the words shooting through him, turning his blood into ice water. At least he'd get to die in front of his house. Given all the slurs Eric used in everyday life, this was the point where Terrance got his face smashed in by something unpleasant. He sighed, barely turning his head to look at Eric.

"Yes."

"I knew it."

"You call everyone a… fag," Terrance noted, visibly, painfully pausing before saying that word. He turned back towards his house, beginning to walk in. "You just made a lucky guess."

Terrance heard Eric's footsteps echoing behind him, but didn't think anything of it until a hand grabbed his arm and flung Terrance around. Eric was staring down at him, frowning… but not in a hateful way. It was almost like he was… disappointed, or something. Terrance wasn't going to cause himself more trouble, though. Maybe Terrance didn't put up as much fight as Kyle did, but Kyle didn't know to leave well enough alone sometimes.

"Why do you hide it?" Eric asked.

Terrance wasn't expecting that one. He stared at Eric for a long time, trying to piece together what was happening before him, and not making any headway. He inhaled sharply before his eyes dropped to the melting snow on his lawn.

"…reasons."

"That's specific."

"Why do you fucking care, Eric?" Terrance practically shouted at him. "You already humiliated me, and I'd rather you not –"

"I only did that because you're a fucking hypocrite!"

Terrance was left speechless, again. Talking to Eric was like sitting through an interview with Dan Quayle. "…what?"

"You sit there pretending to be so straight and so above it all while you're probably sitting around fucking your best friend or whatever the fuck you –"

"Jesus H. Tap-Dancing CHRIST, I am NOT fucking Phillip!"

"You could've fooled everyone!"

"Fuck you man!"

"Your debate skills astound me, Terrance, absolutely astound me."

"What the fuck do you want?" Terrance asked again, on the verge of trying to hit him. Eric paused, registering the look of pure disdain on Terrance's face, and moved away from the teen, backing towards his own house. He still managed to look imposing while doing it.

"Just trying to figure out why you were staring at me in class," Eric said, and walked straight back to his house.

Terrance watched his retreating frame, his mind now occupied with another million questions.

.

A/N: I know, short transitional chapter. But I do really like the conversation that happens in this chapter, and it's a pretty big turning point… I can't wait to share it with you all! (smile) As always, reviews, concrit, and feedback are encouraged and wanted!


	6. i could be taking you there with me

_i could be taking you there with me_

Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Eric spent that evening in Stan's house, playing videogames on the newly re-designed Okama Gamesphere 4.0, none of them really saying anything that lingered on their minds. Kenny knew what had Eric so frustrated that he needed to take his anger out on a video game, but Stan seemed more at-ease than he did at the party, where he basically tried to latch on to whoever got near him, call them Wendy, and beg forgiveness. He must've found the actual Wendy at some point. Kyle's constant state in Eric's presence was irritation, so that was nothing new, honestly. The four of them began battling it out on a massive multi-series fighting game, all of them characters from differing games, shouting at each other and laughing and acting like it was old times. It kind of was – Wendy wasn't here, for starters, and the four of them weren't arguing.

There'd been a bit of a schism in their tight-knit group as of late. Part of it was Wendy's constant presence, but that was something that had been building for years. Stan would probably never date another woman, and the rest of them were finally getting used to it. But there were other things. Secrets. It all started when Eric told Kenny that he must be losing his mind, because he remembered the kid dying all the time, suddenly. Then a drunk Kyle told Stan who told Eric that he was completely afraid that Eric was going to kill him. And so on and so forth. The four of them were trying to hold onto something that might not be able to stay stitched together… it distressed Kenny a bit to know that Kyle and Stan, though they still thought of him as a close friend, probably judged him for being closer to Cartman, just as it distressed Cartman to think that Kenny might believe the things Kyle said. They were like a bunch of teenage girls. Much as the four of them made fun of the mind games the girls played in elementary school, they couldn't avoid the same pratfalls.

Stan threw down his control in mock anger as Kyle, yet again, took another round. "Damn it! Why are you so good at this?"

"It's not exactly a great accomplishment," Kyle said, rolling his eyes as Stan got up.

"If you could kick ass in reality, too, that'd be awesome," Eric shrugged, putting down his own controller. "But it'll never happen, so."

"What d'you mean, it'll never happen? I could totally kick someone's ass!" Kyle protested. Kenny slammed his head into the wall and let out an irritated moan, but the other two ignored him.

"If that person was like fucking three years old."

"I would never hit a toddler, how -!"

"Your scrawny Jew ass is never going to –"

"Don't call me a Jew!"

"_It's what you are you fucking dumb-shit!"_

"I'm going to get snacks," Stan said rather quickly, jumping up off of his perch on the floor.

"I'll help," Kenny immediately added, and the two of them shuffled into the kitchen as fast as humanly possible, ignoring the ever-escalating shouting match going on the next room over. Stan immediately glanced in a cupboard above the sink, pulling out a family-sized bag of Cheesy Poofs. Kenny dove underneath the sink to find a Tupperware bowl. Stan and him had a system – despite the strain in their relationship, they were definitely on the same wavelength more often than Kyle and Cartman.

Stan grabbed the bag and moved to the counter, popping it open and sighing. "…dude, Kyle told me Cartman fucked with Terrance at the party."

"…Fucked with as in…?" Kenny responded.

"Mind games."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that's true."

"I'm a little worried about that," Stan admitted. Kenny went to get a bag of pretzels in another cabinet.

"What about it?"

"How random it is."

Kenny frowned. Well, Kenny couldn't well say what he thought Eric's reasoning was. He'd probably be sentenced to an eternity of dying for that. He simply took the chip clip off of the pretzel bag and grabbed another bowl. "…He's opportunistic. I don't think he'd planned it out too far in advance. Since it was Spin the Bottle and everything…"

The sounds of frenetic yelling were finally dying down. Kenny glanced in the living room. It looked like Kyle had just smacked Eric in the face, and a stunned silence was washing over them. Kenny turned back to Stan, who ignored the whole thing.

"Yeah, I know, but there was something… really fucking weird about it. From what I remember, anyways."

"Well, Terrance is kind of –"

"He's just skittish. Cartman was like… he seemed, to me…" Stan made a face, as if he couldn't think of the right word. He poured the Cheesy Poofs into a bowl, Kenny staring blankly at him.

"…predatory?" Kenny finished.

"Sort of? But like… interested."

"…like sex interested?"

"Like sex interested."

Well, fuck. Kenny really didn't know what to say to that, mostly because it was close to true. The yelling was beginning to pick up again, but Kyle was remaining steadfastly silent, a sign that the argument would soon end. Kenny frowned. "That's not possible."

"This is Cartman we're talking about," Stan offered, picking up his full snack bowl. "For all we know, he could be."

Kenny watched Stan walk into the living room, immediately ramping up the fight as Cartman dove for a Cheesy Poof to fling at Kyle's face.

If Stan was thinking it, so were the people who remembered it. Kenny piled the pretzels into a bowl and frowned. It was only a matter of time before his efforts at getting back at Terrance would come back to bite him in the ass. In an unpleasant way, that was.

.

Terrance banged on the Cartman family's door, aware that it was about nine at night and he was wearing mismatched sweaters and jackets and green drainpipe jeans. He had a sudden epiphany about how to deal with Eric – just tell the truth. It was twisted and crazy and it might be strange enough to get Eric off of his back. Why was Terrance staring at him? Because he was too attractive not to stare at! I hate you, but you're pretty. Let's see his atrophied brain try and figure that one out! In his haste, he hadn't bothered to see if his layers actually matched, which they very clearly didn't. Most people thought he was dotty anyways, and Eric was going to be his only audience. If Eric was so fixated on humiliating him, it would just be one more arrow in his quiver.

But it wasn't Eric who answered the door. Terrance blinked upon seeing his mother, who, truth be told, he'd seen maybe twice since he moved here. She was fairly pretty, with short brown hair and pale skin. She was the kind of person that was probably an incredible beauty in her youth, much like Terrance's own mother.

"Oh hello Terrance!" Eric's mother said with a chirp and a grin. Terrance had no idea how the woman knew his name, but didn't think much of it. "What can I help you with?"

"…is your son home?" Terrance asked as blankly as he could.

"Oh, no. He's at Stanley's house. I could –"

"No," Terrance cut her off quickly. "…no, that's fine. I'll just… I'll see him tomorrow at school. It's not very important."

"Well, all right, then," Eric's mother nodded. "Have a good night."

She smiled again as Terrance, giving her a fairly awkward smile back, moved to return to his own house, hearing the door shut behind him.

Well. That worked out tremendously.

.

Kyle fumed silently, walking home by himself, as he was wont to do. Kenny and Eric went in the other direction, towards both of their houses, discussing something in very hushed, somewhat disturbed tones. Whatever. Kyle didn't fucking care anymore. Too long he'd let Eric traipse around the town, acting like he could get away with anything and no one would care. At this point, Kyle knew, he was right. Nothing shocked the residents of South Park in regards to Eric Cartman anymore. Everyone pretended not to care about the things he did, lived in constant fear of retribution, but said nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Except Kyle. Was Kyle _really_ the only one concerned about how Eric was treating Terrance? Kyle didn't want to presume anything about Terrance, someone he only knew in passing, but Eric was a steamroller. Much as people could protest that he was a little less homicidal and confrontational now than he had been in his youth, he still retained that ability to overpower anyone with his words, to manipulate people into being his puppets. There was no doubt in Kyle's mind that's what Eric was doing to Terrance – first forcing on him that kiss, and now… it made Kyle fume just thinking about it, honestly. How could he say those things, all those _lies_, and not feel an ounce of remorse for his actions, even after being hit in the face? His excuse for it all, his justifying words, were sickening.

Eric pulled the same excuse once before, over something completely unrelated. He'd been acting off for a few days, and all of a sudden, he took all four of his friends at the time – Stan, Kenny, Butters, and himself – and called himself a fag. It was ridiculous. They treated it as such… well, except Butters, who didn't really know what to do and found himself drifting away from the group. Probably Eric's intention the whole time, Kyle had realized later, to manipulate Butters into not talking to them or something. Using that same excuse to justify whatever the fuck it was Eric was doing to Terrance was fucked-up, especially because it was a fairly poorly-kept secret that, besides Gregory Wilkinson and Christophe Thernardier, Terrance Stoot was the only other gay student at South Park High. True, he'd never come out officially, Kyle thought, shoving his hands into his pockets, breath crystallizing around him as he wandered up his street. But everyone knew.

Kyle couldn't help it. Hearing that dumbass lie, justifying Eric's homophobia and bullshit and violence and manipulation, got him mad, madder than he'd been in recent memory. He smacked Eric. Hard. In Stan's house. Yeah, Kyle couldn't kick anyone's ass, could he? The two of them were a bit stunned afterwards, but Kyle knew he made the right choice. If that smack made Eric leave Terrance alone, everything would be good. If not, Kyle, again, by himself, the only one who cared enough to admit that Eric was still completely fucking insane, would have to take matters into his own hands.

.

A/N: All right, a little shift in focus for this chapter! We'll definitely be seeing more of the other boys and girls as the story progresses, as antagonists and protagonists and all the shades in between. As always, reviews and concrit are welcome! Hope you're enjoying the story!


	7. that's me in the corner

_that's me in the corner_

"He _what?"_

Thank God most people in homeroom were pretty loud before class started. Phillip was surprised at his own outburst, almost clamping a hand over his mouth, but what he was hearing sounded… frankly unbelievable. It made about as much sense to Terrance as it did to Phillip, judging from his confused face. No wonder Phillip hadn't heard from his best friend last night.

"I'm telling you – Eric cornered me in front of my house, asked me who I was –" Terrance glanced around before lowering his voice, not that it was necessary. " – who I was gay for –"

"What."

"Yeah, he's woefully unaware of how being gay works, which is unsurprising… well he asked me that, and then managed to manipulate me into coming out to him, and then asked me why I look at him during biology."

"…what the fuck?" Phillip said. No matter how many times Terrance repeated the story, it just seemed so weird. Phillip had the benefit of seeing Eric Cartman in action as a child, and the kid was a complete sociopath. There was that time that he killed his own stuffed animals in a schizophrenic rage without knowing what his other personality was even doing. Or the time he got Sarah Jessica Parker killed. Or the time he managed to master Fire-Bending, something that no one had ever figured out or wanted to even delve further into. There was some sort of plan in place, and Phillip, frankly, was worried.

Terrance nodded. "I tried to go over there last night to just… kind of yell at him, but it… didn't quite work."

"What'd he do?"

"He wasn't home."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Terrance pulled on his dark red sweater, glancing around awkwardly. Bebe was definitely being much louder in talking to Red and Wendy than he was about his life crisis, but Phillip supposed he felt the need to be secretive. It must be hard, he reasoned, being closeted for years and then all of a sudden, you were out to two people without really intending to be out. Phillip put a hand on Terrance's, smiling at him.

"Look. If he tries anything, I will kick his ass," Phillip informed Terrance. "I'll kick it so hard that he'll have a bootprint on it, and it'll scar over, and whatever poor unfortunate prostitute he ends up marrying will always be like, 'what's up with that boot on your ass?' and he'll be all 'shut up bitch' but in reality he will rue it." Terrance stared at him blankly. "I'm working on my English, too."

"That was a fucking run-on sentence. Try harder," Terrance joked. He smirked, glancing at his hand beneath Phillip's, his face suddenly sinking. Phillip blinked.

"What's wrong?"

"…what if he tells people? What if he is trying to…?"

"I will still kick his ass," Phillip informed Terrance. "If he ever hurts you, he's going down."

"He's way bigger than you, Phillip. He'd probably kill you."

"Then I will die knowing that he'll get life in prison for it."

Terrance shook his head, smirking and laughing slightly, turning his hand over to give Phillip's a tight squeeze. Phillip felt a smile grow on his face. He was glad that he could be around for Terrance. Sometimes it seemed like there were weights on him that he would never understand, but at least he was helping, in his ignorance.

"I'm definitely going to yell at him today," Terrance told Phillip, "and I will inform you if you need to get out your boots."

Phillip nodded, smiling back at him. "You better, guy."

.

Stan Marsh knew that he shouldn't be doing this. He knew that people always began to ask questions about him and his state of mind whenever he visited the foursome that held court behind the 7-11 a block from the high school, but damn it, they gave the best advice, albeit backhandedly and with plenty of sneering. They were smart, the Goth kids. Even though everyone, from Kyle to his lovely girlfriend Wendy to his teachers and counselors, disapproved of it, Stan couldn't go to anyone else.

That was the biggest problem people observed when they heard Stan Marsh was talking to the Goths, Stan supposed. They didn't understand that the Goth kids were incredibly intelligent, and had insight that no one else at the school could possibly have. Those were the perks of being an outsider. But people worried about Stan entering that world, for whatever reason. As if you could only stay in one place, stay static, because even a minor flirtation with someone different could lead to your entire outlook on life being irreversibly damaged. Right. Stan knew Wendy would get on him again for this, possibly even get into another fight with him, and that none of his super best friends would even remotely understand. As far as this particular issue was concerned, Stan's attempts to clue Kenny in to his worries were useless, and Stan wasn't going to go to Kyle. Kyle was already infuriated about it. And besides… Stan was worried about something slightly different from Kyle.

Wandering into the desolate area, Stan's blue drainpipe jeans and red flannel shirt stood out immediately compared to the area's other occupants. Four pairs of eyes drifted over to him, staring at him through wafting cigarette smoke, blowing in the icy wind around them. Stan stifled the urge to cough and waved at them. "Hey."

A heavy-set female with heavily lidded blue eyes and pale skin rolled her eyes at the greeting, sitting delicately with her legs folded underneath her and her black ruffled skirt flowing on the concrete around her. "What a conformist greeting, Raven."

"She's right, you know," a tinier teenager said. He was skinny as a twig, could probably give Terrance a run for his money, and accentuated it by wearing tight black drainpipe jeans and a fitted dark shirt. His hair fell into his face, accentuating how mature he looked, despite his voice still retaining a childish pitch. "Why not just sit down and complain about your simple problems as always?"

"Calm down, guys," another teen with red highlights in his hair admonished, lighting up another cigarette immediately after stamping one out with his Cuban heels. "Maybe he has a less simple problem for us."

The last goth kid, a tall boy with curly black hair tumbling into his eyes, said nothing, keeping his gray eyes trained on Stan as he continued to smoke. Stan put his hands in his pockets. Yep. They would give him good advice, but they sure as hell weren't going to do it willingly.

"I do have a problem," Stan admitted.

"I'm not shocked," the smallest goth said.

"Georgie," the lone female cautioned ominously. Georgie frowned visibly at her, licking his lips irritably, before turning back to Stan.

"It's got nothing to do with me, actually," Stan admitted, "but I'm wondering if I should get involved."

"What insignificant problem has the school-kids all atwitter?" the red-headed goth asked, his voice more even-keel than the other three who had spoken. Stan appreciated the lightness he took – compared to the other three, the red-head, Dylan, was much easier to deal with, and seemed genuinely concerned with Stan's well-being… if no one else's. The curly-haired goth glanced at Dylan quickly before taking another drag of his cigarette; all four of the goths were now staring at Stan as he sat down in front of them, on the cold concrete. A chill immediately rattled up Stan's spine, but he tried not to show it.

"Did you hear about Bebe Stevens' party?" Stan asked.

"Who?" the curly-haired goth asked, his voice rougher and lower than the others'.

"The blonde girl," Georgie reminded him with an audible note of disdain.

"With the tits," the woman helpfully offered.

"That's specific, thanks guys." The curly-haired goth rolled his eyes.

"Head cheerleader, Adam," Dylan said.

"…oh." He stamped out his cigarette. "She had a party, okay."

"Yeah," Stan agreed, taking the floor back as soon as he could. If he let the goths keep talking, they would probably get fixated on how conformist cheerleading, parties, and/or tits were. It didn't bother Stan too much, but he had a lot to get off of his chest, a lot of what the goths would call insignificant worries of someone brainwashed by the masses. The scent of smoke was starting to get to him a bit, though. Wasn't gonna lie. "And at that party, a friend of mine kissed another friend of mine."

"…and?" Georgie asked after Stan took an ill-advised thoughtful pause. "Haven't you kissed your girlfriend, Marsh?"

"I was trying to figure out what to say!" Stan protested, a bit miffed at the attack on his manhood.

"Ignore him," the woman said.

"Henrietta -!"

"You were saying, Marsh," Henrietta continued, ignoring Georgie's wide-eyed protestation. Georgie, in response, glared at Stan, eyeliner-rimmed eyes looking particularly fearsome. Stan swallowed a bit of fear before continuing.

"They're both guys," Stan said, ignoring Georgie's twitching frown, "but one of them's lied about being gay before, and the other guy… I just worry about him in general, he's kind of socially awkward. Great guy, but awkward as fuck." Stan sighed. "But now I'm starting to worry about the other guy, too. I mean, what if he wasn't lying and we just assumed he was because he's an ass?"

Georgie's eyes were practically slits. "…what are you even asking, Marsh?"

Stan frowned at him. He and Georgie were probably on the worst terms, but Stan could never figure out why. It was like Georgie envied something about Stan, and was responding in the most petulant manner possible… but Stan figured he was reading too much into it. Georgie was probably the only one who legitimately hated him and thought his problems were stupid. The others might decry conformity and the traditional high school experience, but Stan gave them a connection to something they, maybe not as long ago as they pretended, wanted. Georgie, for whatever reason, didn't want that connection.

"It's dividing my friends, I can tell. Well… dividing them worse." Stan could see Adam light another cigarette from the corner of his eye. "And I think that maybe we've got it all wrong, that we should just… but if he is lying, then things could end very badly… but if he's not…" Stan trailed off. He couldn't quite verbalize the worry clawing at him – that no matter what course of action he took regarding whatever Eric was doing, it would end in disaster. Stan just didn't know how to handle Eric anymore. He feared the teen, loathed him… but liked him well enough, and wanted to believe that he really had been telling the truth about his sexuality. But Butters leaving their group shortly afterwards, the fact that it never got brought up again – that made him worry, too. The contradictions made him sick to his stomach with worry.

Henrietta, holding a long cigarette holder between her tapered fingers, frowned a bit. "You want to make the right decision but don't know what that is."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like you only know the liar," Henrietta noted.

"The other kid could be just as bad. It could be the exact opposite of what you say," Dylan offered. "Or they could both be secretly evil."

"Or they could not want any interference from some preppy poseur," Georgie offered in a low voice.

"That doesn't help," Stan admitted, pulling his arms around his legs.

Adam took the cigarette from his mouth, looking at Stan for a few seconds. "Look. Is there anything you can really do about the situation without causing more problems?"

Stan thought for a second. "…probably not."

"Then stay out of it. Most of your conformist problems would go away if you didn't feel the compulsion to stick your nose in things," Adam chided.

Stan knew that Adam had a point. Adam always had _the_ point. It was like he had the world pegged, and just needed to sit there and listen to a problem spin its wheels for a bit before hitting on what would make everything better. It was why Stan liked visiting his house down the street, because the guy just knew things. Stan sat still for a second before nodding.

"…that sounds right," Stan noted.

"Of course it is," Georgie said with an irritable sigh. "Are you ever going to leave?"

Stan stood up, nodding to them, his own subtle thank-you, before heeding Georgie's words. Being shanked wasn't high on his priorities list.

.

Biology would've been the perfect time to psych out Eric, but Tweek had to go and have a major freak-out over getting blue dye on his shirt and then assume he would become a target for the underpants gnomes. Everyone's attention was successfully diverted, Wendy began to speak to him about how worried she was that Tweek wasn't getting psychiatric care, and that whole period became a bust. By now, Terrance was practically jittery. He didn't relish the task, and had a feeling that, for the momentary pleasure it would give him to freak Eric out, by week's end it would become an all-out war.

Terrance found himself in the library during free period, looking for an interesting book. He'd just finished a large book of interviews with comedians, and wanted something out of that vein. Inspecting the true crime section of the school library, his eyes trailed over lurid titles, a good number of which he'd already read. The librarian was beginning to suspect he was insane, but when you lived in South Park, the problems of real people in normal towns were almost soothing in comparison. His eyes fell onto a rather large book he hadn't read before, one about murder at the World's Fair some hundred-odd years ago.

"It's well-written."

Jesus. Just when he thought he'd get some peace and quiet, Eric had to – Eric? Terrance turned to look at him, hair falling in his face a bit.

"…yeah?" Terrance asked incredulously. Eric was shelving books in the unit behind him, talking to him through thin slivers of light between rows of novels. Terrance didn't realize he volunteered in the library, despite being here all the time.

"Better than the other one you read last week about the Manson killings."

…okay, that went beyond weird. "You know what books I check out?"

"Yeah." Eric was not being very helpful with his explanations, re-shelving 'Go Ask Alice' without much thought. "You're here all the time."

"I never see you here."

"You're unobservant outside of biology, apparently."

How nice of Eric to bring up that topic in the middle of a crowded library where all Terrance could do was whisper. What a jerk. Albeit a jerk whose efforts to put books on the top shelf were making his pants slide down… oh for fuck's sake, focus, Terrance. He went back to looking at his true crime novels…

…until he realized that he might be able to inflict more confusion this way. Eric Cartman was destroying his week, and Terrance wanted some sort of revenge for it, petty as that sounded. He hated getting walked all over, and though he would usually slink into the shadows, now was not one of those times. Eric could out him, or beat him, or whatever, but Terrance was going to go out in a blaze of… glory was the wrong word, but something like that.

"You want to know why I was staring at you?" Terrance asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Why not," Eric responded, just as blasé. Terrance was pointedly not looking at him, pulling out a book on the crimes of FDLS prophet Warren Jeffs.

"Because you're hot."

Terrance continued getting his book like nothing was happening, but was aware of the crushing silence from behind him. A smile worked its way onto his face, glancing at the back cover of the new book as if it was the most thrilling thing he'd ever read in his life. In reality, he was just trying to imagine what the look on Eric's face was. Stunned, probably. Maybe he was red in the face. Flustered. Served the guy right. Probably confirm all of his stupid stereotypes – the gay kid likes all the straight guys, doesn't he? Point to Stoot.

"…are you seriously?" Eric finally said.

Terrance felt his smile grow wider and a little more wicked. "I'm seriously." Yes, the eventual book to the back of the head would be painful, but the tremble in Eric's voice was just so funny. God forbid anyone not female show an interest! Terrance was so close to bursting out laughing, imagining just how contorted in anger Eric's face would get – if only he had his video cam –

A pair of arms wrapped around Terrance's waist tightly, and a serious, harsh whisper began echoing in his ear. "You better not be joking right now, Stoot, I swear to fucking God."

Terrance's smile disappeared immediately. On one hand, Eric's arms were fairly sturdy, strong, warm. He wasn't trying to crush his ribcage or anything… he was just holding him. The thought brought a bit of a blush to Terrance's face. …but Eric could very easily crush him like this, if he got angrier. His aroused blush mingled with a terrified one.

"…I'm not," Terrance finally managed to say, getting through his surprise, his voice very quiet. "Your personality is vile, but you're attractive. Why are you -?"

"Well, you have the personality of a rock, but you're pretty," was Eric's snippy response.

Terrance didn't think it was possible to be more confused, but, evidently, it was. He finally glanced at Eric, who was just staring at him, leaning his head on the other teen's shoulder.

"…you call me slurs," Terrance responded, his voice trembling. Thankfully, he hadn't said anything particularly embarrassing, like 'Phillip's gonna kick your ass' or 'you smell really nice'.

"Well, you _are_ a fag."

How nice of Eric to notice. Terrance was seriously beginning to question his safety, his hands sliding up to meet Eric's in an effort to pull them away.

"Like me," Eric finished.

The silence afterwards was deafening. Terrance glanced at him and couldn't help the strain of nervous, appalled laughter coming out of his mouth. It was a joke. Right? But Eric's face didn't suggest any kind of joking. Eric was just looking at him steadily, face blank. Unreadable.

Terrance couldn't take it anymore. He dropped his books onto one of the shelves, extricated himself from Eric's arms, and walked away as fast as he could, striding out of the library and running off to God knows where. He figured showing up to his last class would be pointless while he was in this mood.

So much for humiliating Eric. No one had gotten humiliated there. There was pre-library, and now there was post-library, and… and…

Eric was gay. That should've made everything clearer, Terrance realized as he ran down a staircase and past the administration building, into the parking lot, but… there was so much that didn't make sense. He thought that you were gay only when you liked a man? He didn't realize that fag was a slur? He thought Terrance was pretty? How could he be gay and act so completely homophobic and straight and do the things he was rumoured to do? Was this all just an act?

Terrance slid into his car and slammed his door closed harder than necessary. Moving to put his key in the ignition, he stopped, freezing for a second before leaning against the steering wheel and letting out a long, irritated growl. Getting beat up was something he could deal with. Indifference was something he could've dealt with, too.

Whatever this was, it was too much. Too, too much.

A/N: Sorry about the delays in posting chapters for this story! They just keep ballooning in size. –smirk- I'd like to thank my beta-reader, Lynx Traveller, for going over the past few chapters and really adding some substance to them, and I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far!


	8. this is ourselves

_this is ourselves_

But what if he really was gay? What _then_?

Terrance decided the best solution to dealing with this was inviting Phillip over, but after doing that, really had no idea what to do about the fact that he couldn't tell Phillip, under any circumstances, what had just happened. Phillip was already wary of Eric and everything he was doing to manipulate and crush Terrance; they'd talked about it that morning. That morning, though, Terrance was going to humiliate Eric thoroughly and was in need of some possible back up tough guys. Now, post-library, Terrance needed to watch TV and do something stupid and get everything out of his head. It was too contradictory, too toxic in its current form. There was the feel of his arms against his stomach, the scent of his cologne, the heat of his neck against his shoulder… and then there were the actual words coming from his actual mouth.

Phillip seemed remarkably nonchalant about the whole thing, loading up a disc of NewsRadio and not asking any questions about why Terrance called him in the middle of his last class, or why he was wearing different clothes, or why his face bore a permanent pink blush. Phillip sat down next to him on his couch, crossing his arms and smirking at the other teenager.

"You look like shit," Phillip joked.

Terrance gave him a cheeky, annoyed smile. "I feel like shit."

Phillip's smile slid away, even though the laugh track on the show was echoing through the room. "…Eric didn't do anything, did he?"

_Sort of? _Terrance shook his head.

"No," he lied smoothly. "I didn't say anything to him." Another complete lie. "I'm just not feeling well, is all." Wow, the truth! Unbelievable. Terrance felt a bit nauseous and queasy and shaken-up, and probably looked it. His mind kept spinning through the same cycle, though: Eric was somehow homophobic and homosexual and homoerotic at the same fucking time. And was interested in his scrawny ass. Possibly. There was a good chance Eric was trying to destroy him, for some unknown reason. But if he was gay, he also thought Terrance was a hypocrite for not being open about his sexuality – even though that would mean Eric was definitely hiding his own underneath an insidious layer of homophobia and homicidal tendencies. And Terrance had the personality of a rock? He had personality. He had loads of personality. He had more personality in his shit than Eric had in his whole body! Like Terrance said, Eric's personality was total bollocks. Oh this was just fucking –

"Terrance?"

Terrance jumped a bit, turning to face Phillip's concerned visage. "…yes?"

"I asked if you feel like you have a fever. You're red," Phillip pointed out.

"I probably just overexerted myself," Terrance covered. "It's been a bit of a hectic week."

"Tell me about it," Phillip said with a smile, eyes drifting towards the television before turning back. "Isn't Complaint Box your favorite episode?"

"…yeah," Terrance said, looking at the screen to see that it was, indeed, the Complaint Box episode of NewsRadio. Terrance smiled, wanting to hug Phillip but feeling particularly isolated at that moment. He was pretending to be sick, yes, but when he closed his eyes, he could still feel a very strong pair of arms settled along the grooves of his hipbones. Part of him wanted to lose that feeling desperately. Part of him wanted to keep it locked in his memory forever. Then there was that ever-important piece of him, reminding him that being held never really meant anything. It was just something people did when they had no idea what to do with themselves, when they wanted to balm wounds or erase transgressions or tenaciously hold you back…

Phillip wasn't going to hurt him. It was something he reminded himself of constantly. There was a new player in this game, however. Eric. Eric wanted to hurt him. Eric wanted to love him. Eric wanted to hurt everyone. Eric wanted to destroy him, and hold him, and keep him to himself and show him to the world and break him and make him whole again.

Eric was insane.

…So they said.

.

Phillip knew that Terrance wasn't ill. He'd seen Terrance sick before, and he didn't act like this. This was new, whatever he was doing, staring at the TV screen with a glazed-over expression and not registering anything happening. Usually, watching NewsRadio was a sport, trying to pick out references and new background events and quoting lines faster. Not now.

Phillip had to assume that Terrance wasn't lying to him about Eric doing something. They had a deal, after all – Eric did something, Phillip kicked his ass. And Phillip would. It was painful, watching his deadened best friend, but he felt like Terrance was open with him, more open than most. That left only one thing that could be making Terrance agonize so much.

For a long time, Phillip assumed that Terrance just had a hard time with the world around him. His parents had been through a nasty divorce, and the only person he felt telling any details was Phillip. But now there was the realization that, even with this strong bond of trust between them, Terrance felt like he couldn't share something so integral to himself with Phillip until at the breaking point. It was even worse to see Terrance distraught over something he should be proud of. It was so frustrating, to see him come out, something that should've been on his terms, something that shouldn't have been so hard for him, and to feel so immediately defeated.

Phillip wished that he could do something about it, to pull Terrance close and tell him everything was going to be all right. He wished that any amount of silliness could wipe away years of fear, that a smile could fix it all, that a hug could drive away the demons. He wanted to play with Terrance's hair, kiss his cheek, act the way he really felt for one second, just to let Terrance know he would never be fully alone in this.

But no. That wouldn't be good, not now. That blank, vacant stare suggested a lot of thought going on. So Phillip would let him think, put a hand on his shoulder, rub his back, not expect a look or a hug or a kiss in return.

They might be codependent on each other, but not to that extent.

.

The next day, the second-to-last day of school for the year, was fairly predictable. Tears from senior cheerleaders promising to never leave each other while they passed their popularity crown to Bebe Stevens; people emptying out their lockers everywhere; teachers dismissing their students and saving special words for their personal favorites. Terrance, throughout the day, never felt like celebrating anything. The library would still be open during the summer, Phillip and he would be working on their show, and his problems with Eric weren't going to vanish. When Bio rolled around, Terrance was ready to just leave school, wrap himself in a blanket, and binge on Kids in the Hall sketches. Or go to bed and wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow would be ridiculously easy, after all. Everyone was basically just going to party and sit around. Terrance's only work for the next two days would be in the AV Room, where they had to tear down the set for the morning announcements that were broadcast over the school's televisions every morning.

Wendy was making Terrance's life easier, unbelievably enough. She was venting about how Stan went to talk to all the Goth kids again, something she heard from Token, who saw them talking when he went to get a slushee at 7-11 the other day. It was easy to tune out the problems fomenting in his head and just listen to her ramblings.

The two of them were in the Bio lab, emptying out their shared supply locker. They had to leave their microscopes and other school equipment in there, but since Terrance used the supply locker as a minor dumping ground, there were a few sweaters and books and things that needed to be taken home. Wendy wasn't even paying attention to how much Terrance had shoved into their shared space, continuing to rant. Personally, Terrance didn't see the problem with Stan talking to the Goths. It wasn't like he was changing his dress or demeanor or anything. People could have friends.

Terrance's eyes, against his better judgment, slowly drifted across the room, to Butters and Eric, who were emptying their own lockers. Apparently Butters had been storing a shit-ton of crayons in there. Butters cheerfully chirped at Eric, who looked to be getting more and more sullen with each word he said. Terrance quickly turned back to Wendy, who was barely paying attention to him anyways.

"And I know that they're all exotic and different and shit, but if he wanted something different, he could just _tell me_, I could do that for –"

Terrance had no desire at all to hear the rest of that thought. He pulled one of his sweaters, a light blue one, out of the locker and shoved it into his backpack, his dark hair falling in his face. He became acutely aware that Butters was no longer talking, and that Eric was hissing something back at him. He heard Tweek screeching in the background, something that finally knocked Wendy out of her vengeful stupor and drew the attention of most of the class. Tweek's lab partner, Craig, was desperately trying to calm him down, and the noise from that turned into a cacophony that could cover up almost anything. Terrance quickly stood up, pulling one of his textbooks out from the bio locker, noticing that Butters and Eric were still talking out of the corner of his eye.

"Aw, jeez, Eric. That's no good."

"Fuck, really, Leo? Of course it's no good."

Leo? Terrance had no idea that Butters wasn't actually Butters' name.

"…well, what're you gonna do about it?" Butters asked, sounding a bit worried. Terrance had a sinking feeling he knew what 'it' was.

"Take care of it," Eric responded matter-of-factly. "This can't be going on anymore."

"Shucks, Eric. You sound angry."

"No shit."

Terrance felt his face drain of color. That couldn't be good. Taking care of – him. He was going to get the shit kicked out of him. And Butters was too fucking dumb to realize it, too busy trying not to get his own ass kicked, most likely.

Now, more than ever, he wanted to just go home and curl into a ball and never leave. It was just like when he was in Canada – he couldn't help but get himself tangled up with complete losers. Why did he keep doing this?

With a gentle click, Terrance closed his locker and moved to help Tweek out, concealing his own fears incredibly poorly.

.

All Phillip saw after school that day was that Terrance looked better. And that's all he could pass judgment on.

.

A/N: So this one took a while to do, and I apologize. I swear things will start picking up! In any case, thank you for continually reading – I'm getting a lot of hits and readers on this story! Also, feel free to review, leave concrit, or any comments you want! It's always appreciated.


	9. and i just ran out of bandaids

_and i just ran out of band-aids_

Eric had a plan. That was what he did when things didn't go his way – plan. Much as the evidence was stacked against it, Eric was hoping, in that brief moment when he pulled Terrance into him, that the bow-legged teen would forget what everyone said about him and just give in to the tension. After all, Eric was, apparently, hot. Not many people would agree there – though he'd developed the physique of a crew rower, everyone who'd known him since childhood _still _called him fatass. And evil, and psycho, and dickhead, and… well, fuck-wipe was definitely a new one.

But Terrance didn't. He ran off and ditched class that day, according to Craig, who was pissed that he had no one to steal notes from because of it. And there was no time to talk in Bio to anyone but Leo, who suggested just admitting his feelings and letting the cards fall as they would. But Eric felt like doing that – admitting the depth to which he'd basically stalked Terrance for nearly a year now, trying to figure out the best way to endear himself and failing spectacularly – would just end in problems. The last time he tried to admit something personal about himself, no one took him seriously at all. Eric said he would handle it, but that was just to get Leo off his back about it. Stupid matchmaking weirdo.

…That didn't matter, though. Eric had a plan, he thought, leaning back in his chair, next to his immaculate desk. Everything was stacked and organized impeccably, with a small jar in the corner with little bits of multicolored fabric placed inside. He was fiddling around with his computer, not really registering the status updates on his Facebook. He'd gone through every available other avenue to execute his plan, but it looked like he would actually have to go across the street to see his erstwhile neighbor. Terrance had no Facebook, no Tumblr, no blog, no MySpace, and a cell phone number that Kyle refused to give to him. Eric considered slipping a letter in his mailbox, but there was the potential for his mother to read it. That would be disastrous, even though Terrance's mother seemed fairly even-keel.

No, he was just going to sit at his desk, peering out the nearby window every so often to see if Phillip had actually left Terrance's house. That blonde kid was problematic. Besides the fact that Eric was inhumanly jealous of him, being so close to Terrance and being everything that every girl and gay man (besides Eric) in the world would drool over, there was the infuriating nature of their relationship. They were best friends, the same way Stan and Kyle were, inseparable unless crow-barred apart. They did that show together, they were probably going to do that show until someone saw its genius and picked it up, and Eric was sure that it would be on for a very long time. He was a little biased, but it was the truth. Those two worked, lived, played, and smiled together. Eric wouldn't be surprised if right now, Terrance was laying out everything that happened during the week, and begging Phillip to do something to erase his confusion. Much as Eric wouldn't mind beating Phillip to a pulp, it would definitely _not_ help his cause.

Waiting always turned into a paranoid exercise, Eric thought blankly, playing with a mechanical pencil between his fingers. As a child, Eric confided in his stuffed animals, but all he had left of those were in that jar on his desk. Leo made his own feelings on the matter very clearly, and cheerfully, be known, and the memory of him smiling and congratulating Eric on opening up only made things worse. And Eric confided a little in Kenny, now one of three people on earth to take Eric's sexuality any kind of seriously, but Kenny was a bit concerned about the obsessive nature this was taking, and Terrance's demeanor, and… Kenny was just prone to seeing things that weren't always there.

With no one to talk to now, Eric's mind wandered to the worst possible scenarios. But he could handle those. He smirked. There really wasn't anything Terrance could do about it at this point – Eric was sick of waiting for the waif-like teen with his oversized sweaters and pipe-cleaner legs and dull hazel eyes and tapered fingers and demented mind and weary smile and delicate touch and his lips, oh fuck, how the hell could that little twig of a -?

Phillip walked out of the house, looking pretty normal. He didn't look towards Eric's house at all. Eric stared out his window at the supermodel-esque teenager, who moved down the street and made a turn. Eric got out of his chair and watched Phillip's retreating, shrinking back, leaning against his windowsill for a few seconds before darting out of his room, down the stairs, past his nearly catatonic mother in the kitchen with her tea, and bolted out of his house. She didn't seem to notice the hectic nature of his appearance and disappearance.

It was much colder in the street than it was inside, Eric thought instantly, frowning at the chill. July was coming soon, so he'd have that to look forward to. Until then, this green thermal would have to do. He was just walking across the street, just tying up loose ends, making sure that toothpick of a boy didn't get any ideas other than the ones Eric wanted in his atrophied brain.

Eric strode across the street and right up to Terrance's doorstep, pounding on the door insistently. Shockingly, Terrance opened the door quickly, the look on his face suggesting he expected someone else. His easy grin slid into a disturbed, blank stare once he saw Eric's face. Well, it was better than what Eric expected, which was an immediate door slam. See, he prepared for the worst, and now something middling was happening. Maybe he could deal with this.

"…what are you doing here?" Terrance asked softly, trying to inspect Eric's face.

Eric deliberately kept his emotions even. "We need to talk."

"…yeeeah," Terrance agreed. Again with the middle-road reactions! This one was a little surprising, though. Eric expected more… vitriol. He crossed his arms.

"…no fighting?" Eric asked.

"At this point, I just want to know what the fuck you're thinking." Terrance sounded resigned to the conversation, and his posture was growing more defensive with each passing second.

Eric frowned. "What do you think I'm thinking?"

Terrance stared at him for a few seconds as if he was insane, but quickly averted his eyes and crossed his arms. Yep, still wearing a big oversized sweater, with a button-down beneath it. Yep, still wearing jeans that pointed out how inhumanly scrawny his legs were.

"You're going to hurt me."

Eric stared at him.

Terrance continued. "I mean, I know you aren't… pleasant, and I don't get it, and I don't understand you and we only snipe at each other and all of a sudden you're- " Terrance raised his eyes up to Eric's again, looking wildly uncomfortable. "…I thought you were trying to humiliate me, but now I… I don't even know…"

Eric was used to people thinking badly of him. He prepared for it, and knew what he was going to say to Terrance in response. It didn't change the fact that it hurt like hell for a second, though. Eric couldn't imagine himself hurting Terrance – but that's how he knew he was attracted to the guy in the first place, thin personality or no. Eric's demeanor made things exceedingly difficult, and Terrance's blunt honesty didn't help matters much. Eric stepped a bit closer to him.

"Just wished you'd be less of a hypocrite," Eric admitted.

Terrance visibly frowned. "What about you? You're not out."

"Yes I am."

"…no you… this is the first I've heard of it…"

"Not a whole lot of people believed me."

"I wonder why."

Reality could be crushing sometimes. Eric shoved his hands in his pockets, pointedly looking away from Terrance. "Well, fine. Think what you want about that, I don't care. But." He looked at Terrance again, whose delicate, thin lips were turned into a mild frown. "You are pretty."

"…so you've said." Terrance looked incredibly uncomfortable. Eric smiled a bit, trying to get him to ease up. It definitely wasn't working.

"And you find me attractive?"

"Against my better judgment."

"Then we should go out."

Eric was certain that this would not go as planned, and the way Terrance's eyes widened to the size of saucers indicated as much. His lip began to twitch awkwardly, and he remained surprisingly beautiful despite his composure slipping away rapidly.

"…_what?_"

"We should –"

"I heard you! Don't say - I mean… are you fucking kidding me here?" Terrace hissed, his voice lowering to a whisper. He put his hands on his hips irritably before continuing. "First of all, before your little stunt at the party, we barely spoke to each other, which is a _brilliant_ foundation for a relationship. Secondly, just because I think you're hot doesn't mean I want to date you! Thirdly, you're Eric fucking Cartman! What do you think the answer's gonna be?"

"Yes," Eric responded.

Terrance continued gaping at him, at a loss for words before he blushed crimson and continued talking, leaning closer to Eric, scowling. "No. Just – how can you even think -?"

Eric grabbed the back of Terrance's head and pushed the skinny boy towards him, stealing his lips again. Terrance fought it for a little bit, but eventually, his eyes closed and his defensive posture dropped, sinking into the kiss. Playing lightly with his hair, Eric pulled away just as it seemed like Terrance might want a little bit more from it, narrowing his eyes and smirking.

"…what now?" Eric asked, spinning a strand of Terrance's hair around his index finger lazily. He felt like he knew the answer – Terrance had a strange glazed-over look on his face, and his cheeks were practically on fire. Terrance didn't say anything for a while, his eyes focused intently on the black socks on his feet.

He finally took in a small little breath. "…but there's nothing here, Eric. You can't become a better person with one kiss."

Eric sighed as well, moving away from Terrance's hair. Damn it. He'd have to take Leo's advice. "Okay then, fine, we'll do things your way."

"…I don't think I –"

"We have all summer to get to know each other. If it works out beyond then, _then_ you'll go out with me."

"I don't –"

"And if it doesn't, then we won't and I'll go back to not talking to you." Eric patted Terrance on the shoulder. "Sound good to you?"

Terrance glanced at Eric's hand for a second before running his fingers through his long hair, evidently thinking, his face flushed. His lip twitched every so often; must be what happened when he thought. Finally closing his eyes, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Can I set some ground rules here?" Terrance asked.

"…depends on what they are," Eric asked warily. He was not going to accept any nonsense about open relationships or Phillip-related things or anything too –

"No sex," Terrance said definitively.

"…that's fine." Eric would live.

"…and we don't tell anyone about it," Terrance also said.

"Yes, you can keep hiding in your closet."

This earned Eric a very stern glare. "…and we actually do get to know each other. We talk. We don't just… you know, fuck around."

"…that's fine." Eric nodded, moving his hand away from Terrance's shoulder. "That's all fine. So I assume you'll be free tomorrow."

Terrance paused, maybe realizing the full implications of what he agreed to, but nodded anyways. "Sure."

"My mother will be out of the house. Think of a lot of conversation starters."

"Yessir," Terrance said with an eye roll, beginning to move back into the house. Before he could fully do so, however, Eric pulled on his sweater and kissed him again, lightly this time, before letting go and moving back across the street.

"…so this isn't a joke?" Terrance yelled after him. Eric didn't want to think wishfully, but it sounded like there was a hint of curiosity in his voice, a hint of disbelief. Good disbelief.

"…of course not, Terrance." Eric smiled as he moved onto the sidewalk, turning to look at him one last time. Success. Complete and total success. "See you tomorrow."

.

A/N: Finally! It only took nine chapters (…this thing will go on forever, I apologize), but we finally get to the main plotline of this messy little story. I hope that everyone who's reading is enjoying this!


	10. you'll be just another regret

_you'll be just another regret_

Terrance couldn't sleep.

He wasn't going to try and cover up his true thoughts here – he'd consented to a trial dating period with Eric Cartman mostly because he was an incredibly good kisser. There was also the fact that he was hot. …but other than that… had Terrance not been given a very sudden, intense kiss, he probably would've said no and moved on with his life and let the sadistic merry-go-round keep running. As it stood, it was two in the morning and he was staring at his ceiling, covers wrapped tightly around him, frowning. He'd be death warmed over in the morning, but it was the last day of school, no one cared.

Maybe he'd feel more at ease about the whole thing if he wasn't so convinced that there needed to be a definite show of love, a definite confession of a deeper emotion. Physical love never got anyone anywhere, and Terrance knew that. He had emotional scars, wounds on his heart that matched pale white marks dotting his body, reminders that he couldn't afford to make the same mistakes again. But the Eric that Terrance was familiar with, even in his shadiness and stalking and political incorrectness, was miles better than his ex. At least, at this point. It seemed that his threats to Butters weren't really threats, just irritation over a frustrated love, which was a good sign, but… it was Eric Cartman. It was natural to be uneasy.

But Terrance had that unease with everyone he met, afraid that, at one point or another, they would suddenly turn on him, in a fit of anger, and mercilessly lay into him. Sometimes he had a hard time looking his own mother in the face, the woman who had never been anything but completely caring and loving and kind to him, fearing that sudden change in countenance that marred his ex's face so often falling onto someone else's. Sometimes he wondered if that was the only reason Phillip spoke to him, to lure him into some ill-defined mental trap. Or Wendy, or Stan, or Kyle, or Clyde, or his teachers, or his neighbors, everyone a possible fiend…

In his brain he knew that not everyone, and probably no one in his current circle of friends and family, was out to hurt him, honestly. He tried to keep himself aware of that. Eric could've easily hit him, or belittled him for his initial refusal to go out with him, or been an even more manipulative asshole. Oh right, Eric was one of those people that might actually be a terrible human being. But it was just those rumours about things he'd done in the past, those stories about his terrible countenance. He didn't seem like the devil-spawn that everyone made him out to be. (And he definitely wasn't the actual devil-spawn. That was Damien, who was incredibly nice to Terrance when he was allowed to come to school by his father.)

Terrance's mother once told him that you should be able to sense when people were bad for you. Terrance never could. He used to be too trusting, now he was completely unable to fully trust anyone. He didn't know if he should be wary of Eric or not. He had no sense, no internal gauge, nothing but a bruised, misshapen lump of a frozen heart.

Maybe Eric would help. More than likely, he would not.

.

Ike Broflovski, for a sophomore in high school, soon to be a junior, was an incredibly naïve child. Most of the people he'd gone to kindergarten with would be freshmen in the next school cycle, yet probably knew more than he did about the ways of the world. Much as he did his best to keep up, emotionally, he was just not there all the time. You couldn't expect the world of a thirteen-year-old.

So when Phillip confided his little secret to Ike, at their usual bleacher spot, he initially thought that Phillip was joking. Phillip was so suave and smooth and confident at all times, looking like he wandered out of some teenage girl's fantasies, and the words coming out of his mouth were so at odds with that image. Phillip had a look, even when paired with the highly unconventional Terrance. He was the norm to Terrance's off-centre.

"…just fart. He'll fall into your open arms," Ike joked, poking a straw into his juice box and smirking.

"…Ike, I'm dead serious here. I'm falling in love with him," Phillip said seriously.

Ike's smirk twitched a bit, but he continued joking. They did things like this every so often, joking about falling in love with someone completely beyond their station or time. Ike would admit that sometimes, his jokes had a little more truth to them than Phillip realized, but for the most part, it was just fun. And Phillip always took it so seriously. Besides, Ike knew that Phillip had been nursing a pathetic crush on Bebe Stevens since God knows when. Him loving Terrance was just silly.

"What part of him? The concave chest?" Ike half-stated, half-laughed.

"Fucking listen to me, guy, I'm being serious here," Phillip intoned darkly.

He was getting better at sounding mock-angry, Ike mentally noted before giggling. "Oh I know. Terrance has that certain _je nais se quoi _that makes everyone question their sexuality around him. Like how the tiny Goth kid manages to make mutilated corpses and death sound hot."

Phillip rolled his eyes at Ike, still looking a bit grave. He hadn't quite mastered the anger thing. It made sense. He and Terrance's show was basically Canadian Jackass. There was no need for seriousness. "_Je nais se quoi_?"

"You know. That…" Ike searched for the word, because, much as they were joking around right now, it was true. Whenever someone at South Park High suspected they might be something other than straight, it was usually in relation to something Terrance did. Poor kid had no idea he was the key to so many closet doors. "…demure nature. He's harmless. The kind of person that it's okay to like, because everyone likes him." Ike paused for a second, though. "Almost everyone. …is he doing well with Eric?"

"He was really fucking out of it yesterday," Phillip said, reverting back to his usual no-nonsense tone. Phillip was never serious for long, and only truly light around Terrance. "I feel like he's not telling me something about it."

"…and your lovin' will cure that?" Ike said with a gigantic smirk.

Phillip chuckled a little bit, looking at Ike. "…probably not, guy."

"He just needs to get away from him," Ike said. "You two are gonna start the show up again soon, right?"

"Over the summer, yeah. I think that's when Huntin' and Killin' comes back, too. Terrance needs to go talk to them…"

Ike smiled wistfully, staring at the football team's practicing once more. It was less practice and more a game of catch now, with Stan throwing it to Token throwing it to Clyde and so on and so forth. "Maybe if you ripped off your shirt and –"

Phillip flicked Ike in the head. He made an irritated noise, but laughed right through it.

.

"Stanley Marsh."

Wendy Testaburger liked to think she was a reasonable girlfriend. She and Stan were very respectful of each other's schedules, hers with Mock Trial and Student Government, his with football and the Guitar Hero Jazz Band. They went out on dates, but didn't smother each other. They often hung out with each other's friends, no matter how frightening and appalling they could get. (Wendy really loathed Kenny, and Stan would never completely understand the enigma that was Red.) But Wendy was of the school of thought that asking someone, politely, to not do something would lead to that person, well, not doing that thing.

Stan knew the minute he looked at Wendy in the hallway that he was screwed. The look on his face screamed 'screwed'. The irritated scowl on Kyle's face, the minute he noticed, from his perch next to Stan, mutated into a similar 'screwed' face. Craig adopted a second-hand 'screwed' face from across the hallway, and Phillip and Ike immediately walked away to avoid the scene. And there would be a fucking scene. Wendy was sick of this bullshit.

She leaned against the lockers, inches away from Stan's face, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders and her lips forming a severely irritated pout. Kyle bailed almost instantly upon seeing her face, probably to seethe about whatever he was worked up about elsewhere. Wendy crossed her arms, watching her boyfriend try to say something and fail.

"I can't believe you sometimes," Wendy told him darkly.

Stan, breaking normal tradition, frowned. "Is this about me talking to the Goth kids again?"

"Look, I can deal with you seeing Adam, but all of them? You know the little one _is going to be a serial killer,"_ Wendy intoned darkly. When Stan visibly rolled his eyes, her face turned a livid shade of red. Oh, he did not. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"He's just a bit crazy, Wendy," Stan noted. "He's no worse than Cartman."

"Because Eric's great!" Wendy threw her hands up in frustration. "Do you know how _bad_ it looks? That you're always running off to talk to those guys? If you wanted to be Goth, you should've stayed with them in elementary school!"

Stan's eyes moved to his side, to glare at the small crowd of onlookers growing, before turning back to Wendy. "I don't _want_ to be Goth, Wendy. I just needed some advice –"

"That you couldn't get from anyone else?"

Much to Wendy's surprise, Stan immediately responded, "Yes."

She struggled to find something to say, her irritation still plain as day. She didn't like the idea that the Goths might have something she didn't have. She was jealous. She wouldn't lie about that. All of them – the little one was vicious, vengeful, like she could be, and much, much more ethereally beautiful. The tall one was extremely smart and spoke few words, the antithesis of chatty Wendy. Henrietta was curvaceous and mature-looking, compared to her scrawny, uptight self. And the one with red-streaks in his hair was almost completely normal, something that everyone in the school wished they could be. Stan could fulfill any fevered wish in that group. And they were all secure in their identities, unlike Wendy, whose own frenzied devotion to Stan led her to pull stunts like this. Turns out it might be warranted, though.

Stan sighed, putting a hand on Wendy's shoulder. She quickly shoved it off.

"You could just talk to them, you know." They'd had this conversation before. Just talk to them, he said, you'll get it. They're not bad people. Except Georgie, he's fucking nuts, but you get used to it. Wendy closed her eyes, her brows knotting in frustration.

"What did you need to tell them that was so important?"

"I just needed some advice, is all," Stan said to her, putting his hand on her shoulder again. She didn't shrug it off this time, her eyes downcast, staring at Stan's blue Toms. The ones she'd bought for him. That made her smile a little bit, even though she still wasn't one hundred percent on this whole thing.

"And they give good advice?"

"Just a different perspective. You should talk to them, Wendy, honestly."

Wendy sighed, still staring at Stan's shoes.

"…maybe."


	11. the beautiful and new things

_the beautiful and new things_

Eric didn't know how he was going to talk to Terrance.

He'd been up pretty much all night thinking about it, stupid smirk plastered on his face until he realized that this meant nothing unless he managed to really impress Terrance. The teen did keep to himself most of the time, when he wasn't around Phillip. And there _was_ Phillip to contend with – Terrance said they were keeping this whole thing a secret, but Eric was just suspicious of their intense relationship. Surely Terrance said something. The pair seemed to know everything about each other. Jesus, what Eric wouldn't give for that kind of trust.

But it wasn't going to come easily. That's not how things worked. Eric knew what it was like to not be trusted with anything – no one even trusted the things he said about himself anymore – and he was certain that Terrance, despite being fairly new to the neighborhood, probably heard the stories. Oh, the stories, a tale of maladjusted insanity that really made Eric pause sometimes. He wanted to say that he was a repressed, distraught little boy who didn't understand the sheer magnitude of his problems. Or maybe that, yes, he was still a little crazy, still a little bit manipulative and harsh, but didn't he deserve some love, too? …maybe not deserve. But he wanted to be with Terrance, and he felt like that should count for something, for a kid who was so involved in his own psychotic selfishness.

The doorbell rang. Eric leaned up on the couch, staring at the door for a few seconds before moving over to it and opening it. It shouldn't have been shocking to Eric that Terrance was on the other side, a dark green sweater wrapped around his lanky frame and his arms crossed around his body, but an immediate flood of relief went through Eric's system upon seeing him. He must have been more worried than he thought. He smiled at Terrance, who blinked but smiled back, albeit after an awkward pause.

"Hey," Eric said, not really sure how else to greet him. They weren't technically anything. Trial lovers? Whatever the fuck that meant. "…come in."

"…hello," Terrance responded, accepting the invitation and walking inside, looking at the living area. His eyes flittered over the neatly stacked DVDs in the cabinet beneath the television, the television itself, and the couch. Eric couldn't help himself, placing his hand on the small of Terrance's back.

"You can sit down, you know," Eric told him, playfully stern. Terrance seemed to recoil slightly from his touch, but sat down on the couch, smiling a bit uneasily at Eric. He finally pressed his hands together.

"…So, where should we start?" Terrance asked. "I mean… I'm not going to lie, all I know about you is… pretty basic." The pause was ominous, as if Terrance was reminded of something a bit unpleasant. That was par for the course with Eric Cartman. Eric sat down next to him, getting a little closer to the twig-like teen than was really necessary. Terrance's eyes glanced at his thigh for a second before moving back up to his face.

"…we'll start there, then," Eric informed Terrance, crossing his arms. "I'm Eric, I'll be eighteen in July, and I play lacrosse. I like crime dramas and the Military Channel, and I'm trying to get into business school." 

"You act like this is a job interview," Terrance said with a true, if small, smile. Eric was a bit surprised – he couldn't say that he'd ever seen Terrance smile at something he'd done directly. On the show, yeah, Terrance was a smiling loon, sometimes looking a bit crazed in his euphoria. But it was different, to make someone smile on your own.

"Same amount of pressure," Eric said, raising his eyebrow.

Terrance rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm Terrance, I'm seventeen and won't be eighteen until next January, and I make a television show. I like comedy and reading about sensationalist crimes, and I'll probably end up being a struggling comedian for the rest of my life. How's that for aspirations?"

"Everyone has their thing," Eric admitted. "…so you don't watch any of the cop shows?"

"There's too much comedy to keep up on. Kind of glad that I'm done with Glee."

"…you watch Glee."

"Watched. There is a _huge_ difference." Terrance crossed his arms before changing the subject. "…I listen to kind of weird music."

"Define weird."

"…you know, older shit. Madonna, Carpenters. That kind of thing."

"Fleetwood Mac?" Eric asked.

"…sort of? My mom really likes them. I can't get the CDs away from her long enough to listen to – where are you going?"

Eric got up and moved to the corner of the room, pulling a small phonograph out of the entertainment console and plugging it in. He could feel Terrance's eyes on his broad back as he reached into the console again, procured a record, and began to play it, gently setting it onto the phonograph and easing the needle onto it. The sounds of 'Second Hand News' began to crackle out of the phonograph, and Eric turned to Terrance expectantly. Terrance did smile at him.

"I take it you like Fleetwood Mac, then," Terrance said with a light air.

"…my favorite band." Eric got up and moved back to the couch, resuming his close seat next to Terrance. Terrance continued smiling a little bit.

"It doesn't seem like something you'd like," Terrance admitted.

"Really?"

"Well… I mean, you're kind of… at school, people were always like, 'yeah, that's Eric, he doesn't care', but… I mean, I've only heard 'Landslide' and another one, but there's a lot of… care. A lot of care in that song."

Eric watched Terrance's eyes drift away from him, as if he wasn't sure about what he'd just said. Eric smirked a little bit, but didn't say anything. "What was the other one?"

"What?"

"The other song you heard?"

"Well, you know, that one everyone's heard." He paused and began to sing, his voice reedy and thin. _"Lovin' you isn't the right thing to do…" _He immediately stopped. "That one."

In the background, 'Second Hand News' slid into 'Dreams' on the phonograph. Eric nodded at Terrance. "That's on this album. 'Rumours'."

"Oh," Terrance responded, leaning back into the couch, still smiling, albeit weakly. "…They say a lot of things about you, Eric."

"I know."

"You've done a lot."

"I know."

"You don't sound proud of it."

"I'm not."

"…they say you killed people."

"Should I be proud of that?" Eric asked.

"…no. But it's true?"

"I was very fucked-up. Might still be."

"Why?"

"Why am I fucked-up?"

"No… why did you kill them? Those people?"

Eric paused, glancing more intently at Terrance. Most people asked out of morbid curiosity, but Terrance didn't seem curious at all, judging from his twitching frown and slightly narrowed eyes. Eric could read people pretty well, even if he almost never heeded what this ability told him and said whatever he wanted anyways. And Eric could tell that Terrance needed to know, in all honesty, why Eric did it.

So he was completely honest. "I wanted revenge on their son. Scott."

Terrance blinked, but asked his question, despite being slightly perturbed. Probably expected something a little more substantial than that. "What'd he do?"

"Humiliated me." 

"So you were angry," Terrance responded. His lip twitched again. Eric stared at him for a second, but nodded.

"Turned out Scott's father was my father, too."

"…wow."

"I didn't take it very seriously as a kid, but we read Oedipus the King in middle school, and I was just… that was fucking eye-opening."

"Why? Thought of marrying your mother?" Terrance joked, his voice a little too serious to be taken completely lightly. Eric rolled his eyes.

"No. But that guy was a total fucking megalomaniac. And so was I." Eric leaned back into the couch, mimicking Terrance's movements. "Might still be. But I don't want to be that person anymore, you know? Things that seemed okay or funny when I was a kid… really not that funny anymore." He paused. "Scary really."

Terrance didn't say anything for a long time, staring alternately at Eric, into space, at the record player, which had spun through a song or two during the conversation, the wall adorned with pictures of Liane and her only son. Eric could only let the music wash over him, knowing that the conversation went somewhere a little deeper than the two of them probably expected. They'd gone from music to why Eric was trying to be less of a pathological nutcase.

Terrance finally opened his mouth to speak again.

"We do such… _stupid_ things with youth."

And Eric not only felt like Terrance meant it, but had been in the same space, looking back at a huge moral miscalculation, and wanted to get as close to normal as he possibly could in the aftermath. The two of them looked at each other for little more than a second, both convinced of the same thing, before sliding back into their traditional roles.

"…that came out deeper than I thought it would," Terrance admitted with a slight laughing lilt.

"True, though. You're smarter than you think you are," Eric responded.

He turned a light pink. "…Thank you. You're… not quite as bad as they say. I think."

Eric didn't smile, instead glancing down and putting a hand on Terrance's knee, patting it. Terrance glanced at it, then back to Eric, before leaning in and kissing Eric quickly on the lips. He pulled away just as quickly, looking a bit nonplussed by his sudden decision; Eric kept his lips pursed a few seconds longer than necessary before moving his hand off of Terrance's knee and smiling.

"…you wanna watch TV or something?" Terrance asked to cover himself, furiously red and watching the phonograph spin its wheels endlessly, the music gone. Eric continued smiling, a little self-importantly.

"What part of that conversation made you do that?" Eric asked curiously.

Terrance narrowed his eyes, avoiding the question. "Don't put on Fleetwood Mac again, it clearly has some sort of effect on us."

"Can do. Let's watch TV."

.

A/N: I know there were no author's notes with the last chapter. That's mostly because I couldn't think of what to write. This chapter, however, was incredibly difficult to write, and I ended up taking a lot of other sub-plot scenes out of it to make it all work. Hopefully you're enjoying the story – I'd like to thank the few people who have reviewed, and the many others who have given me lots of hits.


	12. your fingernails break

_til the strings or your fingernails break_

"Summer."

Phillip breathed in the South Park air deeply, standing with Terrance in the park around Stark's Pond. Everything was still frozen over, a parody of the season they were supposed to be celebrating, ice clinging to blades of grass and the two boys bundled up tightly in their own ways. Phillip shoved his gloved hands into his trenchcoat, pulled over a peacoat pulled over a sweater and whatever else. Terrance wore sweater after sweater, his hands disappearing in the sleeves for warmth. The two of them stared out into the lake before glancing at each other with a smirk.

Terrance began to set up a camera, procured from inside his many sweater layers, on a tripod that Phillip had been carrying the parts to in his trenchcoat pockets. Everything was petite, precise, and fit together like clockwork to create something much larger. It was only a matter of seconds before the camera was set on a fully assembled tripod, ready for action.

"Ready for this?" Terrance asked with a very dangerous smile. Phillip's smile back to him was just as deranged.

"Fuck yes."

Terrance pushed the record button on the camera and immediately got in front of it, his voice's normally shaken cadence gaining a strange degree of strength.

"Hey everyone, guess what? The hiatus is finally over!"

Phillip squeezed into the frame by grabbing hold of Terrance's waist and spinning him out of the way. Terrance pushed Phillip lightly as the other teen practically giggled, "Welcome back to the Terrance and Phillip Show!"

Terrance put his head on Phillip's shoulder, his smirk returning. "And in celebration of summer, we've decided to jump naked into the lake. Which is going to be like… stupid cold. Really stupidly cold."

"Our mothers will be so proud."

"At least we aren't farting in the supermarket again."

"Or TGI Fridays."

"I'm pretty sure we've been banned from TGI Fridays."

"Well, the farting will come later. Now, we will strip for the amusement of our one female fan."

"We love you Wendy!"

The two teens looked at each other and smiled even more widely before Terrance threw off one of his many sweaters. Phillip made a complete show of taking off his jacket to reveal a long-sleeved thermal, as if he was the sexiest human being on earth. He was most certainly not. Terrance was almost completely undressed, save for a pair of combat boots, socks, and his boxers, by the time Phillip was done with his jacket.

"You've got to be kidding me," Terrance yelled at Phillip, standing up, very obviously shivering through his mildly deranged-looking smile. "You whore. Pose for the camera, whore!"

"Shut your fucking face," Phillip shot back, but neither of them could really hold back their laughter, especially when Phillip got tangled up in his shirt. Eventually, the two of them were stripped nearly naked, turning blue, probably looking incredibly crazy. Phillip turned back to the camera, somehow losing that model-like composure he almost always had.

"You know… people go swimming in the summer."

"Yes they do," Terrance agreed, glancing towards Stark's Pond. "The weather is perfect." Sarcasm dripped from every word, his twig arms crossed over his scrawny chest. Phillip stared at him for a second, as if to question this statement, but turned back to the camera.

"So, to kick off the summer season of our show, we've decided to go swimming. And strip. Which we already did."

"We're such fucking geniuses," Terrance stated, his combat boots leaving visible imprints in the snow as he headed closer to the lake. He looked like an incredibly lost child, but sounded like a dangerously world-savvy man, with a bite that could make someone cringe and smirk at the same time. "Tune in next week to see us with pneumonia."

"Or amoeba poisoning. Don't swallow."

"Do I ever?" Terrance said before bursting out laughing, his feet at the edge of the water.

"I walked right into that one," Phillip admitted, standing right next to him before turning back towards the camera.

"Glad to be back, little monsters."

And they both jumped into the pond, the splash loud, the waters disturbed.

.

Kenny put the phone down slowly, back into its hook on the wall, the looping cord keeping it to the receiver tangled up in knots. He stared at the receiver for a very long time, his breath suddenly rushing to shake and splutter, in the absence of any words being slid into his brain. Kenny might not be as smart as Eric, but he sure as hell knew that what Eric was telling him was just… bad.

Because Kenny didn't have any problems to deal with on his own! His irritation bubbled over, his breathing growing more rushed and his face coloring. Good one, Eric. It wasn't like just yesterday Kenny was telling him how worried he was that Karen was going to have a hard time with her freshman year next semester, how worried he was that Kevin was this close to moving out and taking his supplemental income with him, how he hadn't seen his dad in literally a week and a half and his mother was blackout drunk every night of the week. No, Eric had good news, he said, very good news, news that wasn't going to cause a problem, but it did, why didn't Eric ever see -?

Kenny paused, mid-mental rant, to take in a shuddering breath. Eric was ignorant to other people's needs, Kenny knew that. Eric could listen to Kenny tell him that Karen was still emotional and still felt like Mysterion might come to save her parents, something that Kenny couldn't do no matter how hard he tried, but Kenny had the feeling that being wrapped in his own neuroses made it impossible for him to figure out how to respond. He was a sociopath, and worse, he was a sociopath and he knew it.

Which made the sudden, giddy exultation that greeted him over the phone incredibly frightening.

Terrance had given in – Kenny's phraseology, not Eric's. The two of them were going to try something out, over the summer, just to see if it worked. And Kenny couldn't tell anyone. No one would believe him anyways, it was patently ridiculous. And scary.

More so than Kyle and Stan, Kenny knew how Eric's mind worked. But at the same time, more so than Kyle and Stan, he was really not comfortable with Terrance. The teen read a different book about death and destruction every week. He said things sometimes that suggested he'd seen some truly awful events. His whole history before moving to South Park was a big blank, a blank that people tended to write off with 'his parents got divorced' without thinking too hard about his introspection, his singular possessive friendship, the fading scars that dotted his body in places he could've never reached on his own. Kenny felt like he knew how to tell a disturbed person from a normal person – years of exposure to Cartman, Mr. Garrison, his parents had made that an easy skill – and Terrance was definitely disturbed somehow.

And Eric was incredibly fucked-up. He was a killer, a psychopath, a possible schizophrenic, a complete narcissist, a dumbass with a veneer of intelligence that tricked many. And it wasn't like this was some well-kept secret, either. Everyone in school was afraid of Eric, from Jenny Simons, who he'd nearly driven to suicide, to, though he would never admit it, Kyle, who sometimes got the fear of God in his eyes and the distraught countenance of an abused housewife from the simplest words Eric could say. The combination of those two… it was just –

"Kenny?"

Kenny turned away from the phone suddenly to see his baby sister, Karen, who wasn't so much of a baby anymore. She was on the cusp of puberty, her long brown hair growing lighter with the years and her body filling out. Wrapped in a thick jacket, a towel over her dripping wet hair – she must've just gotten out of the shower – her green eyes showed a deep concern.

"Yeah, Karen?" Kenny said nonchalantly.

"Who was on the phone?" The glittering in her eyes… Kenny felt his heart throb a little. He didn't want to break her hope, but he couldn't give her the answer she wanted.

"Eric."

"…oh." Her eyes dulled immediately, drifting to a corner of the room where Kenny kept his backpack. She sighed. "…I wonder if he's even alive."

Kenny walked away from the phone, pulling Karen into a tight hug. Fuck Eric. Seriously. Fuck him for giving him another fucking problem. And as Kenny felt Karen's tears spill onto his shoulder, he couldn't keep his seething irritation down. Fuck this. All of this. Karen deserved so much better.

.

A/N: I apologize for the delay in chapters. It's been a pretty interesting summer for me so far, and it took me a while to format this chapter and edit the summer events down into a cohesive whole. Not to mention that I've been performing with my acting troupe and now have a summer job. Hopefully you haven't forgotten about me, and you enjoy the transition to the second arc of this story, Summer. Please, reviews, concrit, and comments are wanted!


	13. swore you'd be coming back

_swore you'd be coming back this way again_

Terrance was still shivering, despite a day of sitting inside, next to a fireplace, in seven sweaters, arms clutched around his body, when he went outside the next day. He'd shoved a beanie onto his head – that fucking lake stunt. Though the idea of it put a bright smile on his face, the stupid introduction to their newest episode, which just needed some minor editing before being shipped off to the people at South Park's public access station (minor editing meaning bleeping out all the foul language they swore they wouldn't say but always forgot about), would be talked about. The two of them were certain of it. Terrance got the feeling it would be spoken of primarily for Phillip's abs, something he let the guy know. They were selling out! Using their bodies to get ratings. Of course, that got them both laughing all over again. The idea of anyone wanting their bodies was kind of ridiculous… sort of… well…

Terrance felt himself blush as he wandered up towards Jimbo Kern and Ned Gerblanksy's shared house, on the outskirts of South Park. He didn't know if Eric actually watched their show. Now he felt a bit… worried. It didn't take a genius to see that stripping naked for a television audience was not the best way to start off… whatever was being started off here. Not to mention that Terrance didn't know what the proper etiquette for a trial relationship was. Or why he was blushing over the idea that Eric might watch him stripping and think something of it. Or why he was thinking about this on his way to meet Ned about their collective unit of shows. They were South Park's public access channel's highest-rated programs – first Huntin' and Killin', then The Terrance and Phillip Show. Together, they got 25 viewers a night. That was pretty big for public access.

Taking his time walking up the stoop, Terrance let his mind clear out. Remember, you are not thinking about your dumbass love life that isn't even really a love life, or your fear of getting bronchitis from that little stunt you pulled in the lake. You are simply meeting with Ned and talking about programming synergy. And possibly borrowing a paintball gun.

He knocked on the door, and immediately, Ned, a tall man with graying hair, small wire-rimmed sunglasses, and no right arm, pulled it open. Ned was a mess of a person, Terrance had to admit. Much as Ned professed to be okay with what Vietnam did to him, he didn't look better for it. He could barely see, was missing an arm, and had to speak through a voice box. At least he had someone who loved him.

"Hello, Terrance," Ned immediately spoke, his voice electronic and jumbled as ever. Terrance smiled in spite of this. He was kind of used to that voice. It was vaguely comforting. Ned led Terrance into the house and, as was typical of them, they sat at the dining room table, a small little rectangular box that Terrance was certain was homemade. The sealant didn't cover every bit of grain on the table, not did it look entirely even, but it was theirs. Terrance traced his finger along the rougher patches of the table before glancing up to Ned.

"So we basically jumped into the lake naked for our first episode," Terrance told Ned.

If Ned was capable of it, he probably would've rolled his eyes. The little twitch in Ned's lip conveyed that much. Terrance slid back into his chair awkwardly.

"You're going to kill yourself someday doing something stupid," Ned predicted, probably meaning to be dark but sounding as he always did. He shrugged a little. "Any plans for the next episodes?"

"Trying not to catch pneumonia. Loading things into a paintball gun and seeing how well they get shot. Farting in public places."

"Have you seen Jenkins' really cute foxes?" Ned asked. "They're really cute."

"…you won't shoot them, will you?"

"No. But they're really cute."

Terrance picked up on Ned's meaning instantly – when you're done appealing to your Y-chromosome-challenged viewers, do something that can be kind of sweet and funny at the same time. Ned was certainly not as juvenile as Jimbo, but he was also incredibly smart. Ned was all about balance, it seemed, balance and calm. Except when people trespassed onto his property. Then he shot motherfuckers up.

"I'll take a look."

"…you seem distracted, Terrance."

Terrance's finger stopped tracing the lines on the table, and his eyes focused a bit more on Ned, who remained inscrutable as ever. Terrance frowned a bit.

"…boy trouble."

"That's new," Ned deadpanned.

"I know. That's why it's troublesome." Maybe it was a mistake to let a much-older man in on his little secret before letting his best friend know, but honestly, who was Ned going to tell? Jimbo? Did Ned talk to anyone else? And then there was the little matter of him being one of the few South Park residents who could actually offer sound advice on being gay. There was Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave, two people who kind of terrified Terrance with their cheerfulness; there was Mr. Garrison, who terrified Terrance with his everything; and the two foreign teenagers at school who seemed perfectly content to sneer at everyone around them, Terrance included. Ned was easily the sanest choice in the lot, and someone who Terrance genuinely enjoyed spending time with, after all. They had similar ideas about making a television show work, they were both quiet and subjective to the whims of their respective partners (romantic in Ned's case), and shared a slight resemblance even – same dark hair and lanky body, though Ned's was practically in pieces.

Ned raised an eyebrow a little, a major show of emotion from him. "What part?"

"He's crazy."

"…in this town, you really can't hope for much better," Ned offered coolly. "What do you like about him?"

"His arms."

"…hmm."

"He's good-looking."

"That's always a plus." Everything came out of Ned's Auto-tuned voice box sounding impossibly sarcastic. It made Terrance grin a bit.

"…he seems a little deeper than most people give him credit for."

"But he's from South Park. And therefore nuts."

"Right."

"…well, if you don't let it affect the show too much, you should be fine."

Terrance got what Ned was saying to him – agonizing over Eric really wasn't going to help him out when it came to doing what he loved. If it started to interfere, he'd need to take a serious look at it. Right now, he was in the confused, initial stages of something that might not even be a relationship. He couldn't let it consume his whole life. Ned nodded a bit, as if he'd read Terrance's mind and confirmed that yes, this was what he meant.

"…right. And about the show…"

.

Wendy didn't know what to expect when she walked behind the 7-11, her shoulder bag slung around her like a bulletproof vest, protecting her from whatever verbal onslaught might be coming her way. She could smell the toxic scent of cigarette smoke and heady, cherry blossom-scented perfume mingling in the air around her, even before she turned the corner and found herself face-to-face with three of the four infamous Goth kids. They'd been infamous since elementary school, dangerous and alluring to too many students. Wendy needed to break Stan of them.

Apparently, Stan hadn't been around to warn the Goths of her incoming attempt to interact with them. The small goth promptly dropped his cigarette stub on the ground, eyeliner-rimmed eyes widening in disdain. Henrietta, the only Goth Wendy knew the name of, glowered at him for a second, turning to what had him captivated before her own eyes narrowed slightly. The Goth with the red-streaked hair glanced at Wendy, gave a little head nod of recognition, and lit up a cigarette without much care. Wendy was right on the mark with him – he was the normal one.

"What are you doing here?" Henrietta asked, a marked disgust in her tone. The small goth – Stan had called him Georgie, but God knew if that was his actual name – continued to stare at Wendy like she was an alien and not a normal girl in penny-loafers and a plaid dress. He really did look like a potential mass murderer.

Wendy took a few seconds to find her voice, her fingers clinging to the edge of her shoulder bag. "…you've been talking to my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend's been talking to us," the normal Goth corrected blithely, an edge of irritation in his voice.

"Believe us, we would be fucking peachy if he didn't," Georgie muttered, his eyes not moving a centimeter from Wendy's own. Henrietta said nothing.

"…regardless." Wendy let go of the bag, putting it on the ground. Georgie's eyes followed her movements precisely, unnerving her even more. This was such a bad idea. How could Stan stand to be around these guys? They were rude and creepy and frightening, except the normal one, who was creepy and kind of a prick. They didn't give advice at all. "He said I would understand if I tried to talk to you."

"So talk," Georgie responded quickly.

"Let me guess. We bother you," Henrietta offered, holding her elegant cigarette holder between tapered fingers. Wendy was reminded how beautiful she was, despite being a total freak and slightly overweight. She made it work, framing her face with small pincurls that brought out her high cheekbones, putting on corsets that emphasized her hourglass figure. If Stan could relate to them, what was to keep him with someone as plain as her. "We're too non-conformist for your preppy sensibilities."

"Or you just hate the smell of smoke," the red-head offered, shrugging. "And don't like making out with an ashtray." Add crude to the descriptors.

"Or," Georgie said, leaning back into the wall, "you're jealous."

Wendy twitched a bit.

"…you _are_ jealous," Georgie said with a dark smirk. Wendy frowned, but didn't protest. Henrietta rolled her eyes at this.

"Seriously, Testaburger?" Henrietta asked, her voice cool and detached. "You've been dating Marsh for like ten years."

"Eight," Wendy corrected out of habit.

"You've been dating Marsh longer than the Canadian kids have been in America." She took a drag of her cigarette, smoke filtering over her head, a veil of death falling over her. "You really think he's getting advice from us because he's attracted to us? Give me a fucking break, you preppy loser."

"He's not our type anyways," Georgie admitted.

"In that he's male," the normal Goth offered.

Georgie glared at him for some reason. "And dumb as shit."

"And always trying to stick his nose in things that don't need noses stuck in them," Henrietta griped. "…where the fuck did Adam go?"

"I bet there's a long line," Georgie said irritably. "Summer school just got out." He gestured to Wendy. "Clearly."

Wendy glowered at him. She wasn't sure how Stan managed to put up with any of this. But she wasn't going to be the bigger person here. She began to turn around and walk away, but a voice stopped her fairly quickly.

"Oh. Hey Wendy."

It was the tall Goth, Adam, freshly returned from getting cigarettes and already cracking open the packaging. He looked blasé as ever, but was enough of a change of pace to make Wendy turn around. She noticed that the other Goths were staring at her – Georgie with malice, but the others with curiosity, particularly Henrietta.

"…hello Adam," Wendy responded quietly. "I was actually just going to leave –"

"She's not good at verbalizing what she's thinking," Georgie told Adam, leaning his tiny back into the grooves of the brick wall behind him, letting a cigarette crumble into ash between his fingertips. He didn't seem to notice the rosy red flush of heat growing on his fingers.

Wendy frowned. "You made assumptions about me."

"And you made assumptions about us. We're even," the red-haired Goth offered plainly. He shrugged a bit, looking up to Adam. "She's jealous of the attention Raven gives to us."

"Stan," Wendy corrected, out of force of habit.

Adam turned to Wendy and lit a cigarette, still glancing at her through a curtain of messy, curly black hair. "…It's funny. He worries that you misunderstand his actions. Seems like an endless cycle."

Wendy swallowed back a bit of her pride, though the words hurt. Why couldn't Stan tell her this on his own? They were supposed to be a couple – they were supposed to communicate. But Georgie was right in his own way, too. She was jealous of the attention, willfully ignorant to what the Goths did. They were outcast for a reason. …weren't they?

"He told me I'd understand if I talked to you," Wendy admitted.

"She already said that," Georgie deadpanned. Henrietta glared at him; so did Wendy this time. When she turned to look back at Adam, he was looking at her in an… interesting way. She couldn't quite read his expression, but knew it was better than anything on the other Goths' faces.

Adam took another drag of his cigarette, and, randomly, his lips cracked into a smile. Wendy should've been scared. Goth kids never smile. But for some reason, the smile was reassuring. Especially since Georgie was reacting to the smile like one might normally react to a bloody riot. The dark-haired woman smiled back.

"All right."

That simplicity was really all she needed. The red-haired Goth seemed to smile a bit at Adam's statement, too, leaning a bit closer to Wendy as she sat down on the pavement. Georgie was still being a little ass, but Wendy wasn't too bothered by it anymore. So, slowly, she began to open herself up to the Goths.

.

A/N: So this was a very challenging chapter for me to write and edit, mostly because of the extended Goth interaction with Wendy. Obviously Wendy is a hard character to put in the same area with the Goths, as they have differing visions and life-views, but I think this subplot with them is going to pay off very well because of that. This chapter was also challenging because I love Ned and Jimbo, and capturing Ned's spirit is very hard, considering he has that voice of his and that Trey and Matt seem to have forgotten he exists. Hopefully I did Ned justice here. As always, concrit, reviews, and feedback are encouraged! Hope you're enjoying this story – it's going to be pretty long, so I apologize.


	14. you look like you could use a stiff one

_you look like you could use a stiff one_

"BEBE! GET THE DOOR!"

"OKAY! GOD MOM!"

Bebe Stevens strode across the hallway of her perfect suburban home, not drunk, wearing fairly fun clothes that flowed with her movements, little Hello Kitty slippers flapping against the hardwood floor as she walked. Most people in South Park – or most of the males, anyways – wouldn't understand the purpose of this little hen party, held on a Monday night of all things, but Bebe had a small little fun tradition since her sophomore year of school. Every Monday night was TV night, and every girl in town only had one show on their mind when they thought of TV night.

Already in her living room was Wendy, who'd seemed unusually sedate, considering she was one of the inspirations for starting these TV nights; the three fun-loving Raisins girls, Ferrari Fernando, Porsche Madison, and Lexus Dupree; and Red, who managed to find Karen McCormick at the park and dragged her along. That meant the person at the door was –

Bebe opened it up and was not shocked to see Jenny Simons in front of her, her black hair tousled perfectly around her shoulders, wearing whatever she could find in her closet. Jenny wasn't a very snappy dresser. In any case, she threw her arms around Bebe and went straight to the living room, collapsing on the couch next to Ferrari, who was inspecting her nails. There was a fairly intense conversation going on between Porsche and Karen that everyone was listening to when the other two entered.

"My brother keeps telling me I can't talk to any guys or anything –" Karen admitted shyly, connected to some sort of conversation.

Porsche, a giggly girl with pin-straight brown hair tied into a high ponytail and wide green eyes, threw her hands in the air. "Screw your brother."

"I would," Ferrari deadpanned, propping her feet onto Jenny's legs.

"Ew, really?" Lexus questioned from her perch next to Ferrari, taking up the last seat of the couch and combing out her messy auburn hair. "He's like, always high."

"…and this is a problem because…?" Ferrari asked.

"There are lots of nice guys at school! Like Clyde Donovan, he's very nice," Porsche noted.

"A bit of a moron," Wendy added. She sat at the foot of the couch, back leaning up against it, hands folded in her lap.

"My brother says the older boys are off-limits," Karen admitted. "They're not… he says none of them will be interested in relationships, per se."

"Per se?" Ferrari snickered. "Let's hook her up with Mike Makowski."

"I think Kenny will literally kill you if you try," Jenny reminded Ferrari, poking her in the forehead.

"Mike Makowski? Who's he?" Karen asked curiously.

"He thinks he's a goddamn vampire," Jenny told her.

Bebe sat down next to Wendy, who rolled her eyes at the conversation. Bebe twirled a blonde curl around her index finger, listening intently. Karen was much younger than the rest of them – she was due to start high school next year, after all – but was incredibly cute all the same. Her sandy brown hair never seemed to be fully combed out, but it gave her such an adorable, naïve air. That being said, Bebe could totally see where Kenny was coming from. The guys at South Park High would try to eat her alive. Still, it was fun to imagine what she'd be like in a relationship with any one of the terrible suggestions given to her.

Karen's face went a little pale upon hearing Mike was a vampire, however. "…he drinks people's blood?"

"Tomato juice. But yeah, fucking dumbest thing ever," Jenny said with an eye roll.

"I think she'd look good with Kyle," Lexus offered. "How smart are you, Karen?"

Karen turned a furious shade of red, sending a few of the girls into a flurry before she spoke. "Oh no no no, I couldn't date any of my brother's friends…!"

"No, you can't date any of them," Wendy said with a little smirk. "I have claimed the best-looking one, you might as well stop now."

Karen smiled at this joking show of solidarity. Wendy probably understood Kenny better than anyone there, after all. Bebe's eyes drifted towards the clock and, without much warning, she grabbed for the remote on the couch near Ferrari's rear (which was met with a disturbed 'hey!') and changed over to the South Park public access channel.

"We have two minutes!" Lexus protested. "I wanna suggest more men to Karen!"

"But my brother –"

"Screw your brother!" Porsche said again, adjusting so she could sink comfortably into the couch. "Besides, I'm sure she'll find someone to drool over here."

Karen's face turned quizzical as she turned to look at Porsche. "…over where?"

"On the show, they mean."

Red entered the room with a giant bowl of popcorn, placing it in the center of the floor, just out of reach of the women on the couch. They protested, but she ignored them. Bebe counted Red among her best friends, even though she was very much unlike the rest of Bebe's friends. Aside from Wendy, Bebe and her girls were loud, giggly, open about their interests in men and sex and all the cruder things in life. Wendy was the only one of them in a long-term relationship, but she could still giggle and share too much information like the rest of them. Red was completely different in that regard – she was the snarky, sarcastic, but professional and calm one in the group. She could make a room even their keel with a single word. Such was the power wielded by one of the morning announcement anchors.

Karen narrowed her eyes in confusion at Red as the older woman sat down next to the small soon-to-be freshman. "...what show?"

"Karen, you can't be serious," Jenny said.

"…I am?"

"Terrance and Phillip's show," Wendy told her with a light smile. The incredibly confused look Wendy got back suggested Karen wasn't aware of its existence.

"…whose?" Karen asked.

The women all stared at her for a few seconds before all simultaneously exploding.

"The two older Canadian kids, one of them lives near Cartman –"

"- it's this prank show, _so_ sophomoric but really quite funny despite that –"

" – they strip, like, _all the time_ –"

" - Ugh, Phillip is hot!"

"Seriously, sex on legs."

" – but these idiots just like squealing at their own classmates –"

" – Red doesn't get it at all –"

Bebe remained silent throughout the whole thing, though she caught herself smiling slightly at it. The whole idea of Monday TV night came about when Wendy managed to catch an episode of the show when Stan forced her to watch it. Since her and Stan were… well, complete and total virgins, the idea of a show where two guys did dumbass things, oftentimes while naked, was seriously appealing to Wendy. So Wendy made Bebe watch, and Bebe found herself immediately falling in love with Phillip, who, before she saw the show, she regarded as a pretty guy, nothing more. Pretty guys tended to be empty-headed, but not Phillip. Not from what Bebe could tell. It was just the matter of getting Phillip to realize how she felt and get him to ask her out…

The other girls fell into the TV night in their own ways. Jenny Simons heard about it through Wendy as well, who was trying to explain its appeal without getting too graphic. Jenny was perfect for just shouting out crudities, so she was let in. Red worked with Terrance in the AV Club, and was immediately invited into the party by Bebe, even though she was far more interested in the comedic tropes used in the episodes than the men themselves. The Raisins girls, who often did things in a group, made a particularly memorable Facebook post about the two boys, which made Bebe comfortable with the idea of letting them in. As for Karen, time would tell if she was worthy of being part of the sacred Monday night tradition.

A familiar, dopey synthesizer trill rang out from the television, and all of the women immediately came to attention, seeing an image of Terrance poking his head in front of the camera, long dark hair falling in his face. Lexus squeaked a bit.

"Oh God Lexus, really?" Ferrari chastised gently.

"_Hey everyone, guess what? The hiatus is finally over!"_

"I can't help it. He's so pretty…" Lexus murmured.

Phillip, on screen, grabbed onto Terrance and half-pushed, half-glomped him to the side of the frame. The reaction to his appearance was much less muted; aside from Wendy, Red, Lexus, and a fairly overwhelmed Karen, the women were all in a tizzy over Phillip Argyle. And why not, Bebe thought, a crimson flush rising to her face. He was one of the hottest guys in school, after all.

"No Lexus, THAT'S pretty!" Porsche protested.

"I want that for my birthday," Jenny sighed airily.

"Wish Stan had his abs," Wendy said, herself getting a little caught up in it.

"_Welcome back to the Terrance and Phillip Show!"_

"_And in celebration of summer, we've decided to jump naked into the lake."_

"Oh my heart," Ferrari cried out overdramatically. Red laughed at her, obvious disdain for the fangirling around her flashing in her eyes, but the reaction from everyone else was pretty similar. Bebe knew her face was on fire, but was surprised to see Karen's just as red. Lexus pulled a perfectly manicured hand over her face and covered a scream. Bebe's mom was shouting something from upstairs, but it was lost in the din. Bebe couldn't stop the grin from sliding onto her face. Terrance and Phillip were two minutes into a new episode and were already getting naked for the camera.

Red was the only one paying attention to the banter being flung between the two Canadians at this point. The chatter was almost deafening.

"Oh God, they know about us, don't they?" Porsche asked in fear.

"They know about Wendy. Fucking Wendy, so fucking lucky, all the guys on Wendy..." Jenny said with a sarcastic lilt.

"I'm sorry that all of you were too smitten to ask either of them to be your lab partner!" Wendy scoffed.

"I couldn't have helped Terrance. I'm dumb as shit," Lexus said sadly.

"No you aren't…" Ferrari said sympathetically.

"…_Well, the farting will come later. Now, we will strip for the amusement of our one female fan."_

"_We love you Wendy!"_

Wendy's turn to go completely crimson. Bebe laughed at her and put an arm around her shoulder, while Red snickered at her.

"One female fan, my ass," Red said.

"Wendy got a shout-out! Lucky – oh…"

Because at that moment, the two boys began stripping. Karen averted her eyes a bit, furiously red; girls hooted and hollered and giggled and squealed. Bebe, though, kept very quiet, hands clasped together, face just as red as Karen's. The other girls saw this as a show, something to let out all that repressed nastiness that they couldn't share in company with other men. Women were supposed to be dainty creatures who didn't want any sex. Terrance and Phillip, if nothing, obliged them well, and unknowingly.

Bebe, though, wanted something a little more. As her eyes trailed the grooves in Phillip's impressive body, she saw someone that was just as attractive as her, and funny and plain old fun. She saw someone she could be with.

Bebe didn't know that Karen was having similar thoughts, instantly, about Terrance Stoot.

.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the two Canadian teens were definitely not thinking about the show airing on the television at that moment. Phillip and Terrance never watched the show when it aired. As with their continuing tradition, they made Kraft Dinnah and did other things, which, tonight, was a game of Battleship, for some strange reason. Phillip had been falling to nostalgia's charms lately, leading the two of them to stare intently at a folding plastic device with a lot of holes and pegs in it.

"E4," Phillip said.

Terrance sighed, putting in a peg. _"Hundiste mi barco."_

"I love how you play Battleship in Spanish," Phillip noted with a smirk. Terrance smirked back.

"My dad used to play it in Spanish," Terrance said, no hint of bitterness in his voice. Phillip found it a bit unusual, but didn't comment on it. Rare was the time anyone ever got to hear about Terrance's father.

"…that sounds unusual," Phillip mentioned.

"Well, I could be a Spanish naval officer if the opportunity ever arose," Terrance deadpanned. "G9."

"No hit," Phillip responded. "And that's good to know. We should do a sketch about that."

"Me being a Spanish naval officer? I look as Spanish as you."

"…well, maybe you should just talk in foreign languages to people and see how long it takes them to smack you," Phillip offered. "J1."

"No hit. You should yell at people in gibberish. You're good at that. F3."

"Hit. Maybe we can do it naked."

"I think we should lay off on naked for a while. The public access channel is starting to think we're secretly airing porn. F4."

"Hit. You sunk my little battleship nub," Phillip opined. Terrance smiled for a few seconds, opening his mouth to say something before his phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up gingerly, glanced at the sender message, frowned, clicked out of it, and put it aside.

"Is your mom sick of us yet?" Phillip asked jokingly.

Terrance rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, our Battleship game is just that loud. We're _totally _disrupting her crossword puzzle." He grinned. "Come on, guy. My mom loves you anyways."

"If you say so," Phillip grinned back. "So who was it?"

"No one important," Terrance said. "I'll get back to them."

Phillip nodded, still smirking. "Bet they wanted to talk about how attractive you look without a shirt on."

Terrance raised an eyebrow dryly, though his cheeks reddened a bit. Phillip should've known better – Terrance was firmly in the camp of people who believed they were about ten times less attractive than they really were, and got embarrassed when it was pointed out. Phillip rarely mentioned his true feelings on the matter, but it sounded enough like a joke to get by without suspicion. Terrance and Bebe, his two loves, were attractive in a similar way. They were both slim with angular bodies, with eyes that seemed to stare right through the layers of social masks and thin lips that twisted into the most beautiful of smiles.

"Oh yes. The hairless milk-white body is definitely the paragon of beauty," Terrance said with a sardonic air, waving his hand.

"Especially when paired with stick legs and bony arms."

"Yeah, stop rubbing it in, you," Terrance said, narrowing his eyes in mock anger before smiling again. "…I can still beat your ass at Battleship. More useful skill than being pretty."

"Fine, B10."

"…fuck, a hit."

.

A/N: This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, all because of the women. The women of South Park really don't get enough love in fanfic, I feel – usually Wendy makes an appearance, but there are so many girls to play around with that I had to shove them in there somehow. Also, I'm a huge fan of showing girls as human beings with drives of their own. It's very rare in any media to see women who acknowledge and celebrate their own needs – I think Bridesmaids does a pretty good job of it, for recent film – so I wanted to reflect that, yes, girls like me do sometimes watch TV shows based solely on how many guys will take their shirts off. And that there's always that one girl who is going to insist on watching the same show for its characters or humor. I say this every time, but reviews, concrit, and feedback are welcome! Also, The Ballad of Stoot and Argyle now has a TV Tropes page, for anyone interested in checking it out or adding to it!


	15. give your reasons

_give your reasons, say it's not her fault_

Eric figured he should be surprised to hear a banging on his door fairly early Tuesday morning, but he really wasn't. He'd yet to receive a response to his text from Terrance, and was pretty sure he knew why. Leo, who'd been at Eric's house, also watching the show, told him it was a bad idea. Said it was a very bad idea. They'd been together for what, six days? And they weren't even together. They were seeing if they could be together in any capacity, and Terrance totally told you that he didn't want to be intimate with you anyways, oh gosh Eric, why'd you go and do that? Eric was thankful that his mother was out of the house, visiting the doctor. She was a nice woman, but a visitor at eight in the a.m. would certainly try her patience.

Eric opened the door and, as expected, saw a fairly annoyed Terrance standing on his porch.

"…I expected you last night," Eric deadpanned.

"Yes, it would've been tremendously easy to kick Phillip out of my house without making him suspicious of any of this," Terrance deadpanned right back. He could give as good as he got sometimes… but Eric couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief flood his system. Phillip was still unaware of their… thing. Still annoying that the god-like blonde was so close to Terrance, close enough for the waif to strip near him without any second thoughts, but Eric wouldn't have to kick his ass in self-defense anytime soon.

"…I take it you got my text message."

Terrance reddened and, without any other words, walked into the house and sat on the couch, pointing to the seat next to him. Eric quizzically glanced at him, but took a seat next to Terrance anyways, leaning against his shoulder. Terrance shrugged him off.

"…you clearly watch our show," Terrance said, a bit coolly.

"Yeah, everyone does," Eric responded. Terrance pulled his arms around his thin body and stared at him. For once, he wasn't wearing a big oversized sweater – on the contrary, it looked like he'd rolled out of bed and run across the street, jeans fastened tightly around his waist and a gray tank top loosely falling over his chest. His arms were just as twig-like as they seemed on TV.

"I don't," Terrance admitted. "We film it and we never watch it live. Superstition."

"You really wanted to have this conversation at eight in the morning," Eric noted sarcastically.

"Let me finish, Eric." Terrance leaned back into the couch, hair falling into his face as his frown twitched. "…so I don't really know how… was it really that graphic?"

Eric paused, looking at Terrance. He did seem a bit shaken by it all – in all honesty, Eric shouldn't have probably suggested that Terrance do the next episode of his show entirely naked. And he probably shouldn't have done it over a text message. But Eric then recalled that he didn't want to have sex. Terrance probably felt terrible about the whole thing, but if Eric knew anything about anyone else who might be watching The Terrance and Phillip Show, he knew that most of them would be staring at Phillip. Terrance was of a different beauty, an unassuming, natural one. Phillip reeked of artifice.

So Eric did what he always did - spoke before his brain could filter any of it. "No. I just think you're hot. We've been through that."

Terrance went bright red and stared at the television, which wasn't on. "…oh."

"Yeah, oh." Eric leaned his body back into Terrance's; Terrance didn't shake him off this time. "You were with Phillip when I texted you?"

"Yeah." Terrance paused. "He's like a brother to me."

"…that was random."

"Guy, I'm not as stupid as I look. You're jealous of him." His voice had a definite edge to it, like being jealous of someone who looked like they could have their underwear-clad ass splashed over billboards for Calvin Klein was completely ridiculous. Eric said nothing, but Terrance stared at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes.

"Christ," Terrance sighed, running his fingers through his hair and pointedly looking away from Eric. "I'm not interested in him. I'm barely interested in you."

Ouch. "Barely?"

"…yeah." His voice wavered, like he was covering something up. They weren't even dating, Eric reminded himself. Maybe Terrance had to remind himself of the same thing sometimes. They were still working out what they had in common, what was going to make the other one moody or irritable. They had been texting a lot, which was nice. Terrance's text messages were almost Dadaist in their irrelevance to life in general, but hey, they were talking. Truthfully, this was the first conversation they'd had, since their first meeting, where they'd gone a little deeper than 'how do you defrost ice cream when everything around you is freezing?'

Eric shrugged a little bit, crossing his arms and looking at Terrance. "Barely's a start."

Terrance looked at him and, despite still looking a bit stern, smiled weakly. "…well…" He looked away before he could betray too much emotion. "You don't have to be jealous of Phillip. He's not my type."

"Oh?"

"It's hard to like someone who puts more than ten minutes into dressing themselves." Terrance paused before smirking. "I mean, honestly."

"That explains the sweaters," Eric said with a wry smile. Terrance shrugged and glanced back at him, full-on smiling again.

"Anything else would make me look… just dangerously thin. Terribly thin."

"Yeah, your arms are a little frightening." Eric poked at one of them.

"I was in a bit of a hurry this morning, sorry."

"I miss the sweaters."

"I'm not forsaking them forever, Jesus Christ…" Terrance's smile was brilliant. Eric wished he could take this moment and capture it forever, but you know, taking a picture of him would probably be weird in the context. Suddenly, his smile slipped a little bit, replaced with something resembling awe.

"What?" Eric asked, maybe a little too concerned.

"…oh, nothing." His smile slid back onto his face, and then let out a little giggle, light and airy. He tilted his head to the side, looking at Eric, the smile not cracking.

"That's a hell of a lot of nothing."

"Eh, maybe I'll tell you later."

"Or you could tell me now."

Terrance glanced at him for a second, looking mildly annoyed. "…maybe I'll tell you _later_."

And that was that. For every little piece of himself that Terrance made vulnerable – in this case, the patches of his body, and the admission that he did get very uncomfortable with the idea of being sexualized, and that Phillip held no interest for him – there were five others that he kept hidden. Eric wished he could say he didn't mind, but he was never the kind of person to hide himself. His past was the only thing holding him back. He just wanted Terrance to be as open as he was… but Eric knew it was probably a lot harder to do than say.

As Eric thought, Terrance leaned a little closer to Eric, his head sinking onto Eric's shoulder. Eric glanced down, noticing that Terrance was reaching for the remote and turning on the television. Immediately, the Technicolor parade of madness known as Adventure Time blasted onto the screen.

"…I hate this show," Terrance admitted.

"Yeah, me too. Sports?"

"…why not."

.

"Your girlfriend is a stubborn one."

Adam and Stan lived down the street from each other, and the two of them, throughout most of their teenage years, often ran into each other, talked to each other, developed something like a friendship. It often wavered, usually because of Wendy's insistence, Adam's parents' personal dislike for Stan (something Stan was fairly certain was rooted in his friendship with Cartman), the general demands of school, all that jazz. But they did try to talk often, whether it be behind the 7-11 with Adam's ragtag bunch of snarky, depressed misfits, or in one of their houses, like right now.

Adam sat on Stan's couch, obviously itching to go outside and smoke, but polite enough to not do so. Randy was upstairs doing God knows what – Stan was never quite clear on if his dad's job actually required him to do anything. It didn't seem like it. But with his mother working at the rhinoplasty clinic and his sister was out visiting old friends, so the two boys had a bit of privacy.

Stan was glad to hear, initially, that Wendy had gone to talk to the Goths. He was less pleased that she found most all of them – with the exception of Adam – to be incredibly sarcastic, annoying, and not worth her time. Stan wanted to tell her that sometimes she was incredibly sarcastic, annoying, and not worth his time, but he knew that, by the same token, he could be incredibly… well, you get the picture. He didn't get why Adam connected with her so much, though. Stan expected Dylan to be a better match for her. The two of them were level-headed to the point of being almost thick-skulled. Or, as Adam noted, stubborn.

Stan went into the fridge, grabbing a Coke and offering one to Adam, who politely refused. Popping it open, Stan frowned, sitting down next to Adam.

"Tell me about it," Stan said.

"Georgie hates her," Adam admitted.

"Georgie hates _everyone_," Stan corrected. "…but yeah, Wendy's stubborn. I'm surprised she even went to hang out with you guys."

"She was on the verge of leaving when I got out of the 7-11. Pissed off. Henrietta said it was Georgie's fault, but I doubt it."

"…he can be a little –"

"I'm sure it was all of them," Adam cut Stan off, wringing his hands together. Nervous tic. Stan took a drink of his soda, eyeing Adam curiously.

"…what should I do?"

"It's your girlfriend, not mine," Adam reminded Stan.

Stan frowned, glaring off into space. "I know I've been asking for help a lot lately, but –"

"Look. Your problem is that neither of you have ever been anything besides perfect your whole fucking lives." Adam's hand strayed towards his pocket; Stan pushed it away. Adam sighed and continued. "Literally. She won't let you change from that, and I'm sure that when she does something you think is crazy, you'll start acting like her, too."

"…um…"

"You two need to get off each other's backs for a while."

"…she's my girlfriend, I can't just…"

"Then I can't help you, Stan."

Stan frowned. Adam wasn't acting like himself at all. He stood up from the couch and moved into the kitchen, draining the soda before putting the can on the ground and stomping on it, crushing it efficiently. Stan looked to see if Adam was paying attention to the aggression, but he'd vanished, leaving the sliding back door slightly open. Stan sighed, putting the crushed can in the recycle and wandering outside. Adam was busy lighting up a cigarette on the porch, staring into space.

"…you all right?" Stan asked from the doorframe. There was a long, extended pause. For a second, Stan thought about retreating into the house again.

"…Georgie found out," Adam finally said, taking a drag of the cigarette. It did nothing for his jangling nerves.

"…ah. Because of…?"

"No. But Henrietta laid into him, and… guess she just blurted it out."

"How's he taking it?" Stan sat down next to Adam, folding his hands in his lap.

"The same way he takes everything. Poorly. Said we're both horrible conformists and that we're going to ruin everything for him and Dylan."

"How'd Dylan take it?"

"With a shrug. It's _Dylan._" Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, smoke hovering over his head. "Between Wendy and that, Georgie was ready to explode."

"Where's he now?"

"Honestly? No idea. Dylan says he's keeping track of him, that's good enough for me."

"…you really shouldn't be that mad at him," Stan admitted.

"He needs to grow up, too," Adam said coolly.

"He's fourteen."

"And acts like a spoiled five-year-old. You'd think he'd be pleased about the whole thing – he was all fucked up over the idea of us graduating, you'd think that two of us dating would make him feel like we aren't running out on him," Adam hissed before taking another drag of his cigarette. "But between you and Wendy being around and that…"

"I guess you'll just have to give it time," Stan admitted lamely. He knew it wasn't very good advice. He gave Adam a look that suggested he had no idea what to say, either. Adam stared at him for a few seconds before smiling faintly.

"Now I know why you come to me for advice and not the other way around."

But he was smiling a bit. Stan figured that had to be progress.

.

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who's read this story so far – in the last two chapter postings, my page views have nearly doubled! Hopefully everyone is enjoying this work so far, even though it is fairly long. I now have the link to the TV Tropes page for this story on my main account, so feel free to go take a look and edit if you want!

In regards to writing this chapter, it's a bridge chapter – the two issues at play here, Eric and Terrance's relationship and Stan and Wendy's interactions with the Goths, are going to take us directly into the rest of the summer's plots and dramas. It's not a very thrilling chapter, but it needs to happen. Next chapter is one of my favorites, though, and introduces us to one of the few original characters in the entire story, so we'll see how it goes! As always, reviews and criticism are encouraged!


	16. it could stay this simple

_it could stay this simple_

Ondine Stoot liked to think she was a completely reasonable human being.

She would be the first to admit that she hadn't always been. She used to be the kind of rash, impulsive girl that everyone knew was going to get into trouble, and getting pregnant at sixteen pretty much verified that. But nearly eighteen years of being a mother sanded off her rougher edges, and a vicious divorce might have wounded her heart, but not her sense of duty. And true, she might still be the crude lumberjack's daughter she always was, a sly woman who swore a little too much, but that didn't change anything about her love for her son. Terrance was her life now.

Which was why seeing him ramble back into her house, wearing what amounted to bedclothes and jeans, at three in the afternoon, after disappearing for the whole morning, kind of pissed her off. Again, she thought of herself as reasonable, but her son walking around, in the snow, in that outfit, at God knows what hour, was unacceptable.

Ondine was pretending to read the newspaper, sitting on the couch right by the front door, when she heard the door click open. Immediately her gray eyes snapped towards her son, who shrank at the glare he received. Ondine already began inspecting him, trying to figure out what on earth he could've been doing. Judging by the fact he'd basically thrown pants on over his pajamas, it wasn't anything good. Her mind snapped immediately to something salacious, but Terrance with a girl was about as likely as Terrance growing gills. Terrance with a boy? Maybe. Terrance doing something asinine for that idiotic show of his? Most probably.

Terrance slid into the room and sat down next to his mother, wringing his hands together awkwardly. Ondine was perfectly content to let him squirm. Maturity wasn't a strong suit of hers sometimes, but Terrance had her wringing her hands and worrying sick with his disappearing and _not answering that goddamn phone of his._ She paid for the stupid thing, he might as well _use it_. She folded up the newspaper slowly, barely paying attention to her son.

He finally spoke, through his curtain of messy hair. "…sorry."

"That's really the best you can do?" Ondine responded coolly.

"I don't know why you're mad yet."

If only Terrance had inherited his father's brains. He had most of the bodily features of Ondine's family – twig-like arms and legs, thick brown hair, wide eyes. He'd also received his father's flippant manners and almost crazed devotion to comedic pursuits. The smarts got completely lost somewhere. Ondine sighed, folding her hands together.

"Well, waking up and finding you gone wasn't pleasant," Ondine replied. "Then there was you not answering your phone when I called. And you coming back in your underwear –"

Terrance blushed, burying his face in his hands. "I put on pants…"

" – and it being sub-zero outside with you in a tank top, and you could've left me a note letting me know where you decided to fuck off to, you know."

Terrance glanced up at his mother, frowning deeply. "I didn't think it out very well, I know."

"…I'd feel a lot better if I knew where you'd gone."

Terrance immediately clammed up, pulling his head out of his hands but not doing much else, staring at the wall. Ondine could tell that he was trying to come up with something – an excuse, a story, anything. Terrance was a horrible liar around her. He wove such tales for Phillip, ones that she could hear and laugh at in her own private time, but with her, Terrance was an open book. Most of the time, this gave Ondine no real cause to worry. Like right now. He was being so obvious about whatever it was that the two of them had no choice but to hash it all out.

"…I, um, I'm not… I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

Ondine blinked before her face sank and her eyes widened. She grabbed Terrance's shoulders, rapidly growing frantic.

"No one's hurting you, right? You can tell me if someone's hurting you, I don't want you to have to go through anything like that, I –"

"Fuck, no, no, not like… I worded that wrong." Ondine noticed that Terrance was mildly disturbed by her implications, his frown twitching. "No, there's… well, there's a… ugh. I'm trying to keep a secret and it's not working."

Ondine pulled away from Terrance and stared at him blankly. "…so you tell me that you're trying to keep a secret."

"It's not a _bad_ secret. I just… don't wanna tell anyone."

"If it makes you sneak out of your house at God-knows-what in the morning, it's not a good secret."

Terrance, pained, buried his face in his hands again. Ondine rubbed his back. Well, now she'd definitely narrowed it down to a male love interest. Or a girl, but again, Ondine severely doubted that. Maybe she should've talked to Terrance about this earlier. Maybe he'd feel more comfortable sharing, she realized, if he wasn't afraid of being rejected. She leaned closer to him, her own long brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"…Terrance, whatever it is, you know I'll always love you, right?" Ondine asked.

Terrance made a little noise before dropping his hands again and looking back to her, his mouth twisted with confusion. "…why're you saying that?"

"Because it's true. And I don't want you to not tell me something because you're afraid of… or because you don't want to offend… Sorry, fuck it, I'm done dancing around this. Terrance." She put her hand underneath her son's chin and tilted it towards her. He glanced at it curiously, but quickly redirected his attention to her. "If you're seeing a boy, I really don't care."

Terrance immediately flushed bright red, which pretty much confirmed Ondine's suspicions, and looked at the floor, opening his mouth but not letting out any sounds. Ondine, after watching him struggle for a few seconds, plowed right ahead. "I love you, Terrance. Don't feel like you have to lie to me because of that."

"…uuum."

"You should really leave notes, though."

"…Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"…I didn't do anything. With… the guy." Ondine wasn't going to ask who it was. Chances were that she wouldn't even know who it was. "He, um. He apparently watches our show."

"Was he concerned about the potential for you to kill yourself?" Ondine deadpanned.

"…no. He… Mom, this is so awkward."

"You snuck out of the house and made me think about calling the cops to find you. Your awkwardness is your punishment."

"You are the weirdest…" Terrance sighed. "…um, so, Phillip and I kind of stripped and jumped into Stark's Pond –"

"Terrance Henry, you better be fucking kidding."

"…uuum…"

Ondine stopped rubbing her son's back and gave him a stern look. "If you get pneumonia, I am _not_ caring for you."

Terrance pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mom. I'm not done with the awkward story from hell yet."

"It gets better?" Ondine said, clearly snarking.

"…yes?" Terrance shook his head. "Anyways. …well, so that was on television, so the guy, he, uh, texted me and was all, um… saying I should've been, all, um, totally naked and, um, shit." Terrance's face was crimson. Ondine knew she shouldn't be smiling, but she was. She should probably be concerned about what Terrance said, but he said it so innocently, like he couldn't even fathom why anyone would want to see him like that. He was still a child in some ways. Terrance noticed her smile and frowned. "I had to set things straight."

"…by having sex?"

"_Oh my fucking God Mom!"_ Terrance practically shrieked, retreating to the other end of the couch. "_By telling him not to text me shit like that! What the hell?!"_

Ondine couldn't help it – she burst out laughing. "Sorry, I thought that's where it was heading. Since you were gone for _the_ _whole morning_."

Terrance let that sink in before his skin flushed even darker. "…oh."

"What'd you do for that long?"

"…watched TV."

"Really?"

"Seriously, Mom. I don't… we're kind of… not really sure where we're going with this. We've kissed each other like twice."

"Part of me is relieved, and part of me doesn't believe you."

"Mom!" Terrance, still red as before, got off the couch and moved into the kitchen. He was probably mortified. Ondine wanted to think that it was fitting punishment for making her worry, but… she sighed, following him. He was going through his usual comfort ritual of grabbing Kraft Dinnah and making it, seemingly rushing through it. Ondine watched him for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry, Terrance," Ondine said mildly. "…I just know where I was at your age."

Terrance didn't say anything, but put down the Kraft box, eventually letting out a sigh of his own.

"…I honestly _don't _know where we're going with it," Terrance repeated. "I… I would like for us to be... together, I guess, but… we barely know each other. It's just… you know, he's hot and he thinks I'm good-looking, though God only knows why…" He went back to opening up the Kraft box, taking a nearby pan and pouring the contents into it.

"Well, that's okay," Ondine said. "You're taking it slow. That's very smart."

"Yeah, I know, but…" Terrance didn't really say anything much after that, moving on to preparing his meal.

"…Terrance, you don't have to –"

"This morning, there was this… moment." Terrance began to stir together the ingredients in the pan, almost haphazardly. "E – He was talking about how I wasn't wearing my sweaters, and he missed the sweaters, and it was so fucking dumb, but I couldn't help but find it funny and… I don't know, something kind of… clicked." He stopped stirring and gave no one in particular a serene smile. "Like, I could see this being something good." He turned back to Ondine, as if pleading for some sort of confirmation.

Ondine walked up to her son and gave him a tight hug.

"I'm not the best person to ask, dear, but that sounds like a good start to me."

.

A/N: Yes, Ondine Stoot, Terrance's mom and original character for this story, is one of my favorite people in the story. I like the idea of a younger mother in the South Park universe, especially one who could be seen as a foil to Liane Cartman. They have similar stories: they're single mothers, were seen as wild women by others, and are not well-liked by the community. However, they diverge wildly later on, even while getting along. Also, for some reason, I imagine Ondine looking like Paget Brewster, and I love Paget Brewster, so there you go.


	17. defying subtlety

_i've made my mark defying subtlety_

"You didn't show up to help me edit yesterday."

Phillip wasn't exactly mad that Terrance hadn't shown up. The guy seemed to have a sieve for a brain sometimes – things went in and anything presented poorly just slid back out. Not to mention that it was still Wednesday, they could – and were – still editing today. But editing was something they'd done for years on the same day, same time, every time. Go film on the weekend, show on Monday, editing Tuesday, delivery Thursday, filming on the weekend, and so on and so forth, all summer long. The schedule had been practically tattooed into their brains. As the two of them sat near Phillip's laptop, Terrance looking a bit guilty anyways, Phillip couldn't help but bring it up.

"Things were a little complicated at my house," Terrance said before gesturing to a piece of film dedicated to a recent shopping trip. "That outro should be trimmed."

Phillip moved the mouse and shaved off a few seconds of film. "Good call. …what do you mean, complicated?"

Terrance watched as Phillip played the scene again, watching for anything they could trim or tighten up. "My mom decided to have an… awkward conversation with me."

"Birds and the bees? You're seventeen years old," Phillip responded with a bit of a snort.

Terrance snickered as well, but shook his head. "No, it was more of a… 'I know you're gay and I'm cool with it' kind of conversation."

"…your mom took care of your coming out?" Phillip questioned, lengthening a short intro sequence. "That was nice of her."

"Yeah. It ended up taking quite a bit of the day away. Sorry."

"Don't be. Things happen. It's just unusual for you to miss an edit," Phillip noted. He moved on to another clip from the episode before leaning back and sighing. "…I didn't get much done yesterday anyways."

"Clearly," Terrance noted dryly. "What happened with you?"

"My father declared Family Bonding Day."

"I'm sorry."

"My sister's back from college, I knew it would happen _eventually_…" Phillip mumbled. "She wanted to go mountain biking. I can't feel the left side of my leg."

"Did the bike fall on you?"

Phillip glared at Terrance. "No, I know how to ride bikes."

Terrance laughed, rolling his eyes. "Oh I'm sure you do. The one time I saw you try to skateboard, you fell flat on your ass. I imagine using something with less wheels would be even more –"

"I get it smart-ass," Phillip said, but giggles overcame him. See, this was how it was supposed to be, him and Terrance, together, making their show. This was their dream, after all.

"So how did you hurt your leg?"

"I biked straight into my sister."

"I knew you were a dork."

.

"You sure do… rely on him, Phil."

Phillip sat vacantly at the dinner table, his other three family members on the other three sides of their square dinner table. They all looked a little too perfect, and Phillip knew it – his mother Therese with her impeccably curled, lengthy blonde hair, and prim cocktail dress; his father William, in his business suit, straight from work, the same hair as Phillip; and his freshly home-for-the-summer collegiate sister Penelope, with dirty blonde hair chopped into a bob that framed her angular face, wearing a dress that matched her mother's in color. Phillip seemed to be the only one not dressing for a Mad Men photoshoot, he thought, mildly annoyed as he ate the pasta in front of him.

The conversation had turned to The Terrance and Phillip Show. Penelope never understood why Phillip even associated with Terrance – back before she left for college the year before, she categorized him as unassailably weird. Therese heard that his mother was a teenaged tramp who had Terrance at a very young age, and further found her to be a bit crude. William didn't like how the show pandered to what he considered the lowest common denominator, and thought Phillip could have a much better best friend.

They would all probably murder him with icy stares if they ever knew that Phillip thought of Terrance in a more than friendly way.

In any case, Penelope's words didn't garner much of a reaction from Phillip. It was more of the same – the three of them tried to pry out why, exactly, Phillip continued to associate with a gangly teenager from the somewhat poor end of town. Therese and William were a little more interested in her statement.

"Rely, that is the right word," Therese pointed out, taking a drink of water daintily.

"I can't really do the show without him," Phillip pointed out coolly.

"That crass thing?" Penelope asked.

"Sheila Broflovski was telling me the other day that you were practically naked on it the other day," William intoned dangerously. Phillip made a mental note to definitely hang out with Ike in the near future and find out why Sheila Broflovski was suddenly interested in how naked he was on television.

"You could've frozen to death," Therese noted.

"It was funny," Phillip responded.

"In the right context, so is cancer," Penelope said dryly.

Phillip gaped at her. "Christ, Penelope –"

"Language," Therese cautioned him. Phillip frowned, turning his gaze back to his pasta. "Anyways. Why do you need to do that show, anyways?"

"I like it?" Phillip offered, fully aware that it would not be a good enough excuse for his parents, and definitely not his sister.

"I thought you liked theatre," Penelope said.

"I can like both, can't I?"

"It doesn't make any sense. Theatre is dignified. Filming yourself farting in restaurants is barbaric," William told his son sternly. "You need to straighten yourself out. You and that other boy are busy making scenes and making this family look ridiculous."

"The stockbrokers at your firm watch our show now?" Phillip asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Enough of their kids do," William glowered.

"What's the theatre department going to do next semester? Do you know?" Therese asked.

"…no idea, it's summer," Phillip deadpanned.

"Don't sass your mother," William cautioned. "Phillip. You need to be serious, son. This television show of yours is only going to make you look like a blithering idiot to future employers. Your brains and talent are going to be lost forever to them because your hometown claim to fame is prancing around with the neighborhood fag."

Phillip immediately dropped his fork. "What'd you call him?"

"Like you hadn't noticed how much he fawns over you. Everyone you associate with is trying to get something out of you. Like the Stevens girl? She's going to be nothing but trouble, she just looks like it –"

"Stop insulting my friends!" Phillip demanded.

"Get new friends," Penelope suggested.

Phillip stood up and took his plate over to the kitchen, completely ignoring the rest of his family. Terrance didn't fawn over him. Terrance didn't look… he didn't have a look, and even if he did, that was no reason to… and Bebe wasn't going to ever be troublesome! She was beautiful and fun-loving, and even if she did drink a little too much at parties, she wasn't the kind of girl who would ever hurt anyone. And his other friends, Ike and Wendy and Stan and Kyle, they weren't –

"Phil, come on," Penelope complained. "You have to admit that we have points. You associate with the weirdest people."

"They aren't weird!" Phillip protested, washing out his plate.

"Great. You've gotten him all riled up again," Therese frowned at her husband. "You know how he gets when he's like this…"

"If he actually showed some care for the rest of us, I might feel slightly sorry for him," William muttered darkly as Phillip dropped the plate loudly into the dishwasher. Penelope nodded in agreement, while Therese said nothing, continuing to drink her water as Phillip stomped past the three of them and up the stairs to his room.

"I don't want anyone over at this house, you hear me?" William called to Phillip.

Phillip responded with a thoroughly melodramatic door slam. Yes, he was angry, but not that angry, he thought as he stared at the back of his white door. His room was pristine, clean except for his bed, where he'd put the tapes he'd filled with that weekend's sketch filming, next to the camera itself and a few ideas scrawled onto papers. He sat down next to the clutter, staring at it.

His parents were stuffy. He'd known that for a while. Maybe it was finding out about Terrance being actually gay that made their statements hurt so much now, or maybe it was the fact that they'd singled out the two people that Phillip could see himself getting more deeply tangled up in. They couldn't have talked about Ike, or Wendy, or anyone else – they had to focus on the two people Phillip actually loved. If they could see into his mind, they'd throw him straight on the street immediately.

Phillip sighed, leaning back on the bed. He'd be subjected to Family Bonding Time a _lot _more over the summer. The brainwashing attempts would begin shortly. The separations would be forced. The creation of the picture-perfect beautiful family would happen, even if his parents had to kill him to make it happen.

It didn't help that, if Phillip could at least be assured of one person's affections, he could fight back more strongly. As it was, he had crushes on two unattainable people - his best friend who would probably never see him in a romantic way, and the most popular girl in school who just started to notice him, despite being in school with him since grade four. The fear that his parents were right did linger in his head, especially about Bebe. Terrance didn't fawn over him, far from it. If he had, Phillip would've acted on it, immediately. Bebe didn't fawn over him, either. If she had, Phillip would've acted on it, immediately.

He frowned at the ceiling. This was going to be a fun summer.

.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in chapters, loves! I just moved back into my dorm and was preparing for my last year of college, so I didn't have as much time as usual to edit and such. The only thing I have to say about this chapter is that the title is a jab at myself. Phillip's family definitely doesn't have much subtle characterization, and you won't see them much, but they'll turn out to be far more important than you think towards the end of the story, I promise. Feel free to check out the TV Tropes page for this story, linked on my profile, and all reviews, criticism, and comments are welcome!


	18. shake the room like it's dynamite

_shake the room like it's dynamite_

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny were sitting in Kyle's living room, once again, on a lazy Friday morning, playing Okama Gamesphere because they really had nothing better to do with their summers. Plus, Friday night was date night for Stan and drinking night for Kenny.

"Dude, where's Cartman?" Kyle asked irritably.

.

"Why are we doing this?" Eric asked eventually, staring down at Terrance, who was laying below him, fully clothed but completely flushed. Eric was in much the same state.

"Do you want to stop?" Terrance asked as sarcastically as possible, arms roped around Eric's waist.

"…no. Do you?"

"No."

"Okay then."

So they continued making out for another hour and a half.

.

"No idea," Stan responded dully. He really didn't want to talk about Eric anymore. Kyle had been doing nothing but coming up with more ridiculous theories about why Eric was so obsessed with Terrance, but it was getting to a point where Eric was barely talking about him anymore – and when Eric did talk about him, it was in an incredibly blasé way, like he'd gotten bored with him. Kyle, on the other hand, just would not let it go. Stan had taken the Goth kids' advice and just let it run its course, and his issues with Wendy were taking center stage in his mind.

Kenny shrugged as well, though he had a completely different reason to shrug. He knew exactly where Eric was, and had a pretty good idea of what he might be doing, and the thought of it kind of grossed him out. Especially trying to work out the mechanics. What if Terrance broke something under Eric's weight? What if Terrance turned out to be some sort of masochist or sadist or something? What if Eric turned out to be like that _and_ broke Terrance with, like, a riding crop or some shit?

Kyle would have none of it. "He said he'd be here an hour ago."

"You got a boner for him or something? Calm the fuck down," Kenny responded, maybe too irritably for the situation. Now he was trying to work out if Terrance was a virgin or not, judging from nothing more than body language. Kenny was starting to get annoyed at his brain's complete insistence over working out the finer points of a Terrance-Eric sexual relationship, since, you know, it wasn't of any importance and Kenny hated the idea of them being together anyways.

Kyle glared at Kenny. "He could be doing something awful again."

"Fuck," Kenny hissed, leaning back into the couch and throwing his controller to the ground. It bounced on the carpet.

A door opened upstairs, and Ike's head, complete with a halo of messy brown hair, peeked out. "I'm trying to read, guys."

"Your brother's having a panic attack over Cartman. Sorry," Stan said, just as blankly as before. Kyle glared at him while Ike rolled his eyes.

"Tell me about it. Seems like everyone I know is having Cartman-related panic attacks." Ike started mentally counting them off. "Kyle, Phillip…"

"You don't know many people, do you, shorty?" Kenny asked lightly. Ike mock-frowned.

"I'll get there," Ike protested with a smile. It slid away quickly as he looked at his brother. "Trying to read." And his door closed up again. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out an irritated squeal.

"Why am I the only one who cares?"

"Apparently Phillip cares. That makes two of you. You should go bitch together," Kenny offered.

"Kenny," Stan cautioned before looking directly at Kyle. "Look. Eric hasn't been doing anything weird at all the past week and a half. He gets bored so easily after all. But you're… getting a little crazy about it."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, dude. It's like all you talk about. And when he's here, you yell at him. Which is kind of normal for you, honestly, but…" Stan trailed off, looking down at his controller.

Kyle frowned, thinking for a second. "It just bothers me that everyone let that slide."

"It's Cartman. If he didn't kill anyone, people will let it slide," Kenny said, a trace of bitterness evident in his voice. He never thought he'd agree with Kyle's erratic Cartman-based behavior, but he wished he'd taken Eric aside and let him know everything that could go wrong with Terrance. The kid wasn't stable. Eric wasn't stable. They were either perfect for each other, or they'd kill each other with their madness.

"But _why_?!"

"Dude, Cartman hasn't said more than two words about the guy since school ended," Stan pointed out. "I know he's done shitty things in the past, but this is a weird one to get hung up on. Let's wait for him to light something on fire."

Kyle stared at Stan for a while. He knew that everything Stan said was true, honestly. He knew that Eric was being mellower than usual – still yelling and brash and snide and all that, but he'd done nothing to suggest he was still manipulating Terrance. He knew that he shouldn't be judging him, but this was Eric Cartman here. His silence must've been a cover-up. And he almost never missed playing video games with the guys, because he could rub his victories into the faces of all of them. There was something wrong here, still.

But Kyle knew the conversation would keep going in circles if he didn't pretend to cave. He nodded, frowning slightly. "…you have a point."

Well, he could cave in his own way. Kenny seemed to accept this, picking up his controller and checking it for breaks. So did Stan, who waited and unpaused the game, hurdling them back into a realm of fighters. None of them could say it was their best video game playing session, but at least they'd moved on from the elephant in the room.

.

"…Shit."

Terrance glanced up at Eric, who was now lying next to him on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Today had been… different. Eric came over briefly, and the two of them fully intended on doing the same thing they always did, watch TV and try and pick at each other's brains. Terrance didn't really know why, but about ten minutes into this usual routine, he basically attacked Eric. With his mouth.

About two and a half hours of them frantically making out ensued, as if they were never going to get the chance to do so again. Maybe they wouldn't, though, Terrance thought, his eyes drifting away from Eric again. He didn't even know why he made that snap decision. Maybe it was that little click he'd felt earlier in the week. Maybe he really was just as hormonal as all the other teenagers his age. Eric was a little stunned by it at first, probably because Terrance hadn't really opened himself up to doing anything remotely sexual. Maybe he was stunned by it now.

"…what?" Terrance asked, glancing back to him, hair falling in his face haphazardly.

Eric looked over at him, his own hair a complete mess, sticking out at weird angles. Weird, how they looked like they'd definitely had sex. Terrance blushed lightly, thinking about what they _had_ done, even though it was, by all accounts, fairly tame. Eric smiled at the blush.

"No, that was a good shit," Eric said before frowning at himself. "I mean… god damn it. Nothing bad."

Terrance did laugh a little bit, snuggling a little closer to Eric's chest, settling his head on the boy's shoulder. "…okay. That's good. …I'm glad."

Eric brushed some of the strands of hair out of Terrance's face gently. "…what brought this on?"

"…not really sure," Terrance admitted.

"Is this one of those things where you don't want to tell me something and say you'll tell me later?"

"No. I really don't know. I didn't really… plan this."

Eric continued to play with Terrance's hair long after it was out of his face, his fingers dancing along the side of Terrance's cheek. He knew he was blushing, could feel his cheeks burning with the touch. It had to be hormones, then; he wanted to cling to Eric and start all over again.

"…that thing I said I'd tell you later about," Terrance said, to cover up his obviously enchanted countenance. "Well, it's… it's kind of dumb."

"Please tell me."

It was weird to hear Eric say 'please', and even weirder to hear his voice so smooth and quiet and soothing. Terrance had gotten used to the weird way Eric talked, to the point where, in his head, he read Eric's text messages in his voice. In that moment, his voice was still rough and a bit gravelly, but quieter, more focused, higher pitched. It made Terrance lose track of what he was going to say momentarily.

And then Terrance figured it out. What it meant, that little click, the losing track of his speech, the blushing, the fact that he'd even agreed to this stupid arrangement… yes, Eric was still better-looking than any other guy he'd come across in South Park, and that could be clouding his judgment a little bit, but he couldn't pass it off as just that anymore.

"…I think I'm falling for you."

Eric stared at him for a long time, his fingers frozen underneath Terrance's chin, the look on his face so stunned that no other emotion could be read through it. Terrance felt his breath catch in his throat for a few seconds. He probably spoke too soon. They didn't really know each other any better than before.

But… they did. They talked about all the stupid things with ease. They could talk about television and books and the world around them and people they knew and the little things that happened in life. They knew not every conversation had to be earth-shattering in its relevance. They still hadn't figured out how to handle the conversations that did get a little too deep, but did anyone ever truly figure that out?

And Terrance really did think that he was falling for Eric Fucking Cartman.

"You're seriously?" Eric practically whispered.

"…yes," Terrance responded, because he wasn't quite sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. Apparently, that was the right answer. Eric flat-out beamed at Terrance, and Terrance knew his face was going crimson and that he couldn't stop himself from matching that smile, even giggling a bit at it all. He was falling for someone, something he thought he'd never be able to do again.

"So this trial period thing is working," Eric concluded.

"For now, anyways," Terrance admitted.

"What happened to being barely attracted to me?"

"…I might've been understating that…" Terrance mumbled quickly into Eric's shoulder. Eric snickered a little bit before kissing Terrance's forehead tenderly. Terrance felt his heart swell to bursting almost immediately – this tenderness, it was so strange, especially coming from Eric. This was the person that admitted to killing his father to get revenge on another kid. This was the guy who, according to half of the student body, could summon Cthuhlu at will. And their own attachment to each other began as an idiotic drunken prank during a Truth or Dare game… or at least, Terrance's did. He paused. "How long have you been interested in me?"

"…a year."

"…a year?"

"Yep."

Terrance stared confusedly at Eric. He took this as his cue to elaborate. "…I saw you get paired up with Wendy for Biology. And that kind of annoyed me because everyone tries to do that because she's a fucking genius and all. I thought you were leeching off of her. But then I started seeing you with her in other places and I noticed that you really seemed to enjoy her company. I don't really know HOW, but you did…" He smiled a little bit. "And then I just started thinking too much about you, and when I saw you it made my day, though you never noticed half the time because you had your nose jammed in a book and all… I tried to figure out ways to talk to you, but you were always with Wendy and Phillip, and I know they're both… not very fond of me. So I fell back on being as weird as possible."

"You should probably not use that strategy again," Terrance informed him. "I thought you were trying to kill me."

"Another unfortunate side effect of being me." Eric kissed Terrance's forehead again, and the blush formed anew. "Why did me talking about sweaters make you realize you might…?"

"Fuck if I know," Terrance responded with a light laugh, kissing Eric's neck. Terrance felt his body tense up a little bit, as if trying not to say anything about that. Well. That was interesting. Eric glanced at him and flicked him in the head. Terrance glared upwards at him.

"We might have a problem if you do that," Eric cautioned.

"…really? You don't like that?"

"…actually, the opposite problem."

Terrance's eyes widened. "Oh."

"I assume you still…"

"…yeah, not exactly ready for… that…"

A silence washed over them. Terrance scooted a little closer to Eric; to his surprise, Eric wrapped his arms around the teen, pulling him into a comfortable hug. Terrance realized that he could probably fall asleep like this, and smiled contentedly at the notion.

"…when, exactly, does your mom get home?" Eric asked randomly.

"Five-thirty."

"…crap. It's five. …I don't want to move."

"Neither do I."

"What a conundrum."

.

A/N: Well, this brings to a close what I like to call, informally, the first act of the story, about the burgeoning relationship between Eric and Terrance. The next act is gonna bring a lot of changes and the rest of the summer for all of the characters, and I already have large chunks of it written and outlined. As always, I look forward to hearing your comments and criticisms! As a little bonus, here's all of the songs that the chapter titles come from. Think of it as a mini-playlist for the first act.

Billy Joel, "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant"

Nicki Minaj, "Super Bass"

Lady Gaga feat. Beyonce, "Telephone"

Adele, "Rumour Has It"

Susan Egan, "I Won't Say (I'm In Love)"

Fall Out Boy, "Saturday"

REM, "Losing My Religion"

Queen feat. David Bowie, "Under Pressure"

Demi Lovato, "Fix A Heart"

The All-American Rejects, "Dirty Little Secret"

Deborah Kerr, "Getting To Know You"

Jennifer Damiano, "Everything Else"

The Carpenters, "Superstar"

Jason Marsden, "Hairspray"

Robyn, "Call Your Girlfriend"

Taylor Swift, "Never Grow Up"

Mandy Leigh Thompson, "Wickeder/Defying Subtlety"

Jackie Q/Rose Byrne feat. Aldous Snow/Russell Brand, "Supertight"


	19. gonna take a lot to drag me away

_gonna take a lot to drag me away from you_

June flew by pretty fast for Terrance and Phillip. The ratings for The Terrance and Phillip Show were actually growing – they'd gotten seventeen television viewers, which also boosted Huntin' and Killin' up to twenty-four viewers per night. They were close to setting a new public access record for South Park! But more important, the two of them were closer than ever. True, Terrance would disappear sometimes, but it seemed his moments of solitude were actually easing their relationship. When the two of them filmed, the creativity flew out of them, the sketches grew more complicated and funnier, their bonds strengthened. Phillip was starting to feel like the two of them could really do their show as a career, and Terrance was starting to agree with him.

June was flying by for everyone else in South Park, too. Stan and Wendy actually went to visit the Goths again, not exactly surprised that Georgie treated them like shit while Henrietta and Dylan had mellowed considerably. Craig perfected his homemade voice modulator, thus cementing his spot as the technician for the morning announcements once again, in addition to pissing off his sister royally. Kenny's dad showed up at home again, apparently after being hospitalized for being attacked by a wolf, which made Kenny feel absolutely shitty for being as mad at him as he was. Karen became a permanent part of the girls' TV night, all the while planning her perfect fairy-tale relationship to Terrance. She generally sat next to Bebe, who was planning a similar fairy-tale relationship to Phillip. Kyle laid off on the whole 'Cartman is going to kill Terrance' thing, a relief for everyone in the group, including Cartman, who was having fun inventing new excuses for why he wasn't at place X when he was, in reality, usually at his own house, doing stupid things with Terrance. Token was learning acoustic guitar, but had already mastered a large number of depressing country songs, which he played to help calm Tweek down. Ike finished that book he was reading, with no help from his brother and his loud-as-fuck friends.

On the parental side, Therese and William continued to bemoan Phillip's choice in companionship, worrying incessantly over Terrance's increased presence. Penelope found Terrance to be a total bore, even though she had to admit, he was a little more talkative than before. Ondine continued wondering about who could've possibly captured Terrance's heart, especially after Terrance mentioned that the two of them had gotten slightly more affectionate with each other – but Terrance still burst into spluttering anger when Ondine asked about sex. Liane Cartman remained kind of oblivious, but Eric wasn't quite sure if she knew and just wasn't saying anything about it. Liane was strange like that.

And with that June 30th rolled around.

.

"What are you going to get this magical boyfriend of yours?"

Terrance flinched. Ondine couldn't help herself. No matter how many times Terrance stated that they were just trying things out to see if they could be together, she knew, from the way he was starting to act, that he was definitely twitterpated. And there really was no other word for it besides the one in _Bambi_, Ondine thought as the two of them wove their way around an antique store. The two of them did enjoy antiquing, even though it was a weird hobby for a seventeen-year-old to have. He liked finding old, weird things, and enjoyed giving old, weird things as presents even more. Ondine still had a Victorian-era lamp that Terrance bought her for Mother's Day years ago. Of course his first destination to find a gift for the not-really-but-definite boyfriend would be the Antique Corner on 3rd Street.

"He's not my boyfriend," Terrance said back, looking at a bunch of trinkets in a glass-paneled cabinet. Lots of silver spoons, Ondine noticed. Nothing struck her son's fancy and he moved on. "But I do need a birthday gift for him. Something cool."

"What does… this guy… like?" Ondine asked, looking at a box of records.

"He likes old things. Pocketwatches and record players and funky kinds of things. He watches a lot of stuff about trains and true crime shows and tends to wear thermal-like shirts and –"

"I'm not buying your boyfriend a train."

Terrance flinched again. "We aren't –"

"Oh my God, Terrance, I'm calling the dude whatever I want to, and you're so head-over-heels for him you might as well be dating."

Terrance frowned at her and moved into another aisle, not even addressing the slight. Ondine sighed, thumbing through the records. Most of the artists she recognized from her youth – Fleetwood Mac, Quiet Riot, Bryan Adams, Toto, The Police, Billy Joel, Elton John, Patti Smith, the Scorpions, Michael Jackson. She probably had all of these records at one point. They were likely trapped in her ex-husband's garage, with a good chunk of the things she used to own at one point or another. She was too proud to get them back, but every once in a while, she would think about the things she left behind, for her son's well-being... she could've been less rash. She could've moved them out with time. She didn't need to leave as quickly as she did…

A cabinet opened slowly with a creak. Ondine looked up from a Talking Heads record, putting it back in the box as she moved over to the aisle Terrance was situated in. He'd opened up a glass-paneled cabinet and held a small little treasure box in his hand. It was shaped a bit like a Russian nesting doll. Why that attracted Terrance's attention, Ondine wasn't quite sure. She sidled up to him; he showed the porcelain treasure box to her.

"See, the cool thing is this." Terrance popped the little gold latch on the treasure box. Inside, like most treasure boxes, was a hollowed-out area with a porcelain charm inside of it. Ondine smiled as she plucked the charm out of its hiding spot, holding it up to the light. The pastel pink heart caught the overhead light, its glaze gleaming.

"It's adorable, Terrance," Ondine told him, putting the charm back inside the treasure box and closing it. For the first time, she got a good look at the treasure box itself. Yes, it looked like a Russian nesting doll, a delicate blue-and-gold body with a warm, inviting face painted on it, but the face seemed… familiar, almost. Ondine narrowed her eyes at it.

"It looks like the neighbor's kid," Ondine said confusedly.

"…the neighbor's…?" Terrance repeated confusedly.

"You know. The tall one. Um… Liane Cartman. Her son."

Terrance immediately turned the doll to get a better look at it, but Ondine noticed how flushed his face had gotten. "Huh, I didn't notice –"

"You're with Liane's son, aren't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Even though Ondine was a bit surprised at Terrance's choice there – she was always under the impression that the Cartman kid was a straight jock – a few other puzzle pieces began to fit together. Like why Terrance could come home almost instantly from his place after being summoned.

Terrance, flushed completely crimson, still stared down at the little Matryoshka treasure box, avoiding looking back at his mother. Finally, in a small voice, he murmured, "…yeah."

"How the hell did that happen?" Ondine asked, curious and a bit disbelieving. Again, every time Ondine saw him, he had his lacrosse gear with him. Sometimes she saw him with that tagalong blonde kid, the two of them talking about how bullshit biology was. And every once in a while, Ondine saw him shoveling snow out of his driveway and onto the Yateses' yard, which Ondine found completely amusing. She hated the Yateses. But the Cartman kid seemed so different from her son, who obediently shoveled snow onto his own lawn, was part of the AV club, and whose best friend was far from tagalong.

"…he kissed me at Bebe's party during a game of truth or dare, and then I thought he was going to kill me, but it turned out he just liked me and didn't know what to do about it, and then we agreed to this trial relationship thing, and…" Terrance paused, still looking at the porcelain figure. "I don't really know. He told me he'd liked me for a year."

Ondine raised an eyebrow, but smiled. Color her impressed. "I can't believe you didn't notice him before."

Terrance turned a light shade of red, and Ondine felt herself smirk even wider. Oh.

"…you did notice him before," she said.

"He just thinks I didn't. But I mean, I didn't know him, just thought he was, y'know. …And I mean he could still just be not… It could be –"

"Why are you so quick to think things are going to go badly?" Ondine asked him bluntly.

Terrance looked at her in some sort of strange awe. For the first time in his entire life, Ondine wasn't quite sure what his expression was. It was almost like he couldn't figure out why she would assume things _wouldn't _go badly. Ondine knew that he had a rough time in Canada – he'd come home with bruises and scrapes from the neighborhood kids, marks that her ex-husband was quick to point out and quick to yell about, insisting that Terrance do something to stop it. And the subsequent divorce from that yelling but caring ex-husband couldn't have helped. But Ondine had no idea why Terrance was being so stubborn about this one point. He was so smitten that the moment his name was mentioned, his face went from vampiric to boiling over. He was buying the guy a birthday present that looked like him and held a little clay heart inside of it. And Ondine had to admit, Terrance had undergone a nice little change. Sure, he disappeared sometimes to be with the Cartman kid, but he was in better moods, he wasn't being so isolated, and the content of his show had finally shifted away from almost-nudity to actual humour.

"…I just don't want to rush into –"

"Terrance, I know that I'm not the person to judge what 'rushing' is. But as your mom, I have to say that you're being kind of ridiculous." Ondine crossed her arms and smiled up at her son. "Don't you like him enough to just give in and see what happens?"

Terrance watched her for a few seconds, his expression still unreadable. He finally sighed.

"It'd be easier to not put the label on it," Terrance admitted. "If we put the label on it, he might want to tell other people, and I just –"

Ondine paused, watching Terrance clam up a bit, the treasure box clutched in his fist, close to his heart, as he crossed his arms. She watched him close himself off from her, his eyes fading into another world for a few seconds. Ondine waited patiently for Terrance to come back to her, though she was pretty sure she understood this reaction. 'He might want to tell other people' could easily lead to him getting hurt again, getting beaten up, gossiped about… Ondine knew how bad it could be. Being pregnant at sixteen, she reasoned, was kind of similar to being openly gay. Lots of gossip and glaring.

Terrance eventually started talking again. "…there are people who wouldn't make it easy."

"…is the Cartman kid bad?"

"…Eric. His name's Eric." He paused. "When he was a kid, he was… pretty bad, apparently. But he treats me well. Better than some."

Ondine couldn't help but frown a bit. Well… that sounded mildly not promising, but Terrance had good judgment in friends. Ondine had to trust his judgment in boyfriends. She shrugged, smiling.

"That's all that matters. Let's get that little treasure box."

.

Bebe Stevens had a plan.

Wendy Testaburger and Karen McCormick, over the course of June, spent a lot of time with her, and today, sitting in a small coffee shop on Main Street, was no different. Karen pulled her limp dirty blonde hair into a plastic claw, her modest white sweater clinging to her limbs; Wendy's thick black hair shone in the rising sun, her thin lips curled around a coffee mug. Bebe herself had an iced tea, tossing her curly blonde locks behind her shoulders before announcing her plan.

"We should invite the guys to the beach," she announced almost randomly.

Karen picked up her tea, turning slightly pink from its heat. "…but it's snowing, Bebe."

"I mean in July," Bebe smiled.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "…there's no beach nearby. We could go to the water park…"

"I wanna wear my bikini, Wendy!" Bebe whined.

Karen ignored this, looking with her huge puppy-dog eyes at Wendy. "I haven't been to the water park in ages. Is it nice?"

"They remodeled after the big pee flood," Wendy noted. "They've got a lot of new rides and it's more of an all-ages thing now. It could be pretty fun." She sardonically glanced at Bebe. "And they have plenty of places for Miss Thang to show her bikini off to, ahem, the guys."

Bebe rolled her eyes. "You could show off for Stan. And Karen could… hide under a towel to avoid her brother's wrath."

"I don't like bikinis," Karen mumbled, burying herself and hiding her blush with her tea.

"…I don't get why it has to be about 'showing off'," Wendy said with a shrug. "I like the water slides."

"…do they have more now?" Karen asked Wendy curiously.

"Oh yeah, there's a lot of them now. There's this one, The Funnel? Basically you're in a raft and you get pushed down a funnel. Hence the name… it's pretty fun, that one's my favorite. Or it was when I went last year."

"Do they still have the flume ride?"

"Definitely! I didn't know you liked those…"

"Well, I don't get to go to places with rides very often…"

Bebe frowned. No one was listening to her brilliant plan. Talking about flume rides and funnels? Boring! Why couldn't those two be more girly? Wasn't the whole point of wearing a bathing suit to get guys to notice you? Well, she knew Wendy was still in virgin territory, and assumed Karen was, too, thanks to the aggressive efforts of her brother to hide her from the world. But her Raisins girls would definitely understand what she was saying. There was only one month of summer, and Bebe knew it would be the perfect time to see if Phillip was as interested in her as she was in him.

And here were her two best friends, talking about water slides animatedly.

"You're telling me that you wouldn't try to get the guy you like if you had the chance, Karen?" Bebe bluntly interrupted.

Wendy stared at her, baffled, while Karen turned a furious shade of red and drained more of her tea.

"…what the fuck, Bebe?" Wendy finally asked, irritation flashing onto her face. "…why do you even want to do this?"

Karen was so deeply buried into her drink that anything she might've said would've been impossible to hear. She was clearly embarrassed. Bebe didn't think much of it.

"Because! We have one month of summer!" Bebe responded.

"That makes no sense," Wendy responded, her face growing more annoyed. "You want to go to the water park with the boys so you can show your body off to the boys. Just admit it."

"Just _one_ boy, Wendy, God." Bebe rolled her eyes. "And sorry about my ulterior motives." The sarcasm was thick. Bebe didn't get it. She knew Wendy was loyal to Stan, and understood that she might be annoyed at the way Bebe went about trying to get the guy she liked. Wendy was brilliant and smart. Bebe was not. But people like her and Karen, they had to use their looks, deception. That was how the world worked.

"…he wouldn't like me anyways," Karen weirdly interjected, disconnected from most of the conversation.

Wendy and Bebe looked away from each other to stare at her, covering her face with her paper cup, steam rising from it. She looked completely ravaged by the conversation. Wendy immediately patted her back, looking uncomfortable. Bebe herself felt a twinge of sadness and confusion, folding her hands together awkwardly, frowning.

"Karen…" Wendy murmured.

"He wouldn't, though," Karen insisted.

"Why say that?" Bebe asked.

"…because guys don't like me," Karen said quietly, drinking far more tea than necessary afterwards.

Wendy and Bebe glanced at each other. Clearly the conversation had rubbed her the wrong way. Bebe's face softened, and Wendy looked uncomfortable and apologetic. Of course Karen would have a hard time with dating, between the aggressive pothead brother, the terrible home life that probably didn't make her want to date at all, and being considerably younger than most of the people she hung out with.

"…the funnel is pretty cool," Bebe offered.

Karen glanced at Bebe, a bit confused, before understanding and smiling lightly. "…you really think so?"

"I know so." Bebe paused. She still wanted this water park grouping to happen, but she obviously couldn't do anything to scare Karen again. "…will your brother let you go if we invite him, too?"

Karen thought for a moment. "I think… I think so." She looked to Wendy. "He might invite other people, though –"

"That's fine," Bebe noted. "I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. So just invite whoever you want and don't worry about the guys."

"The guys you want probably aren't the ones who'll ogle you in a swimsuit anyways," Wendy said with a pointed glance to Bebe. Bebe laughed nervously before giving a genuine smile.

"Well then, I'll get this organized. July 5th?"

"Works for me."

.

A/N: Welcome to Act Two of this ridiculously long thing! I really like what's coming down the pipeline in this story – things are going to start changing a lot for our two boys, and in obvious, big ways. But first, WATER PARKS. Because that's a thing that I can write about, being a coastal kid and all that. As always, feel free to leave your reviews and comments, and check out the TV Tropes page for this fic! Also, as with the first act, all of the chapter titles are lyrics from songs.


	20. when you feel you can't go on

_when you feel you can't go on_

Eric was starting to really question the logic of the trial dating period.

It was hard to justify it anymore, he thought. A little under a month ago, they'd started the trial dating period because they weren't sure if they were compatible in any way, shape, or form. But it was obvious now that they were more than compatible. They barely went more than a few hours without talking or texting or calling. Terrance was definitely opening up, both mentally and physically, and Eric found himself doing the same thing. Sometimes the two of them could be in the same room, not say a word, and be on the same page. Eric didn't want to think that he'd gone to an extreme Terrance hadn't reached yet, but the whole thing was kind of ridiculous. They were dating in every respect except by name.

Eric had already broken one of the rules of that trial period, the one about not telling people, because Leo and Kenny figured it out in seconds; judging by the way that Terrance's mother smirked at him whenever they passed each other on the street, Terrance hadn't really kept that criteria sacred, either. The other two remained steadfast, but there was no reason for them to hold themselves to getting to know each other. They'd gotten to know each other – or, at least, Eric had. He knew the music to play to get Terrance to smile knowingly at him, the words that set him off angrily, all that jazz. And everything he learned made Eric that much more enamored with him. And for the last rule… Terrance still wasn't going to let that budge, but plenty of people were in relationships and didn't have sex with each other. Like Leo's parents. It wasn't a be-all end-all, at any rate.

But Eric thought about the idea of getting rid of the trial dating period a lot. He thought about it even more now, since his birthday had passed, and Terrance bought him the little Matryoshka doll. Eric held the doll between his fingers at that moment, turning it so that it hit the light pouring into his room through the window. Terrance was so worried that Eric wouldn't see what he saw, but it'd be hard to not notice the resemblance the doll had to him. Eric smiled thinking about it, for a second, before putting it down on his desk, next to the jar of shredded fabric. His special things.

The two of them were working out. Eric knew it wouldn't have happened without the trial period, but it'd outlived its usefulness. Eric just wanted to be able to call Terrance his, without Terrance spluttering and mumbling that they might be jumping the gun a bit, clearly only committing to their original agreement out of a sense of duty. Eric was fine if Terrance didn't want to tell people, particularly his still oddly possessive Hollister model of a best friend, but would it kill him to admit, when it was just the two of them, watching TV or trying to shovel snow out of the yard or cuddling on the couch, that Eric was his boyfriend?

At that moment, Eric's phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out, expecting Terrance's dorky, grinning Caller ID picture to greet him, only to see Kyle's surly, annoyed picture. Huh. Kyle didn't call him too often.

"Jew," Eric answered blankly.

"Fatass," Kyle responded. "You free July 5th?"

"…possibly," Eric responded. "Why? Desperate to pencil in your next ass-kicking in Halo?"

"You fat fuck, I'm the better Halo player and everyone knows it!" Eric could just sense Kyle's exasperation, and he smiled evilly. Terrance thought it was a little malicious, Eric's hatred of Kyle, but it'd always been like that. They were destined to act out their rivalry for all eternity. When Eric explained it to Terrance, the other boy shrugged, saying that he'd just rather avoid people he hated. "And no! Karen and Kenny are going to the water park with Bebe and Wendy, and Kenny invited us because he wants to have fun while making sure Bebe doesn't pimp out his sister."

"…pimp out his…?"

"His exact words," Kyle responded. And see, they did agree on _some_ things, like misuse of the word 'pimp'. It was obnoxious. "You going or not?"

"It sounds doable," Eric responded. "Am I going to be trapped with you and Kiineh and Karen and Bebe and Wendy and Stan while you all make lovesick faces at each other?"

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line. That didn't shock Eric in the slightest; he imagined Kyle was fuming. He wasn't great at being ribbed. That's what made ribbing him so fun.

"…I'm not even going to address that."

You just did, Eric thought.

"But yeah, apparently Bebe invited a few other people," Kyle said vaguely.

"…anyone we know…?"

"Maybe."

"Kaahl, you're being so very rude right now."

"You don't need to know!"

"I'm gonna find out anyway, you stupid kike!"

"_Don't you dare call me that again!_"

"_Tell me who's going!_"

"You better not fucking try to pull anything with him!"

…Eric's turn to pause. Pull anything with…? Oh. Well, that was… bizarre, to say the least. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Your brother or Stoot?"

"…what would you pull with my brother? _You better not pull anything with my brother._ I meant Terrance. So don't fucking try to, I dunno, kill him or whatever it is you're planning on doing to him."

"Damn. I was so looking forward to drowning him in the kiddy pool." Eric's sarcasm couldn't have been laid on thicker if he tried. But Kyle still had just thrown a wrench into the day, for sure. Terrance and Eric didn't get seen with each other much for obvious reasons. When they were outside, they did their absolute best to not look like they had any care or attachment for each other – like they were nothing more than neighbors helping each other shovel snow, or that one of them was irritated that the mailman was still so drunk on the job that he never delivered mail correctly, or whatever. It would be very different when the audience for this wasn't their neighbors, who, aside from those fucking Yateses, didn't give two shits about them. It would be their friends. And Kyle. Fuck.

"Cartman, I swear to God –"

"Jesus, Kaahl, I'm not five! I get it!" Eric shouted. He didn't want to admit it, but this was beginning to piss him off. Not that Kyle would have any idea why it did… "So his best friend Thor is showing up too, right?"

"You would lose a fight with him in two seconds," Kyle deadpanned.

"You assume so much of me," Eric deadpanned right back. "I take it that's a yes. Anyone _else_ I should know about?"

"Butters."

"I assume I can't drown _him_ in the kiddy pool either?"

"Cartman -!"

"Jesus Christ, Kaahl, take a fucking joke." Eric rolled his eyes. "So that's all of us, Wendy, Bebe, Karen, the Canadians, your brother, and Leo. See, why didn't you just say that earlier? Would've saved us so much pain in the long run."

"Go fuck yourself," Kyle responded. "You in or not?"

"Yeah."

"Will you need a ride?"

Eric almost opened his mouth to say no, he had a – but he didn't.

"Yeah. Can Stan pick me up?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Don't you dare do anything."

"Love you too," Eric said coldly before hanging up on Kyle as he protested something fierce. He slid his phone back into his pocket, glancing over at his special things on his desk.

Great.

.

Kyle realized midway through yelling that Cartman had hung up on him. Great. That conversation had gone about as bad as Kyle could've imagined. There was no way Eric didn't try to pull something at the water park. He knew that if he told the others, they would tell him what they always did – to let it go. Well, not on the fifth. On the fifth, Kyle was going to be watching Eric like a hawk and making sure that, if he did anything, he'd get what was coming to him. For sure.

.

"So who's that guy you think isn't ever going to go out with you, Karen?"

"…it doesn't matter."

.

A/N: I know it's been a while, but I'm still hard at work on this story! I have about ten more chapters in the queue to edit and finish up, but it's one of those things that takes a back seat to real life. As always, reviews are appreciated, and any notes are welcome!


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